


But, Does He Lyc(an) Me, Like Me?

by OriginalCeenote



Series: The Funniest Things Happen When I Work Night Shift [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood Drinking, Clint Barton Is a Human Disaster, Clint lands in the dumpster again, F/F, F/M, Illegal Medical Procedures, Lycan Bonds, M/M, Moderate Violence, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Sam Wilson, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Vampire AU, Werewolf AU, moderate smut, sequel to Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, werewolf shifting, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26671501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: “So I haven’t dated in a while. So?” Clint reached for the milk carton on the top shelf and pried it open, swigging from it without bothering to get a glass. He belched cavernously and scratched his stomach.“Dude. Ew.” Steve grimaced, shuddering.“I’d swipe right on him,” Sam confirmed, quirking his brow.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov (former), James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (former), Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Funniest Things Happen When I Work Night Shift [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940704
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	But, Does He Lyc(an) Me, Like Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my companion story to my fic “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” It’s set in the same ‘verse, but it’s a “What if?” remix missing all the murdery fun of the original. And this one has SO. MUCH. MORE. CLINT.
> 
> Mood boards for this story were created by the fabulous SSLeif.
> 
> https://do-what-the-knight-tells-you.tumblr.com/post/630416097758330880

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183133495@N02/50389429653/)

The flies buzzing around his head woke Clint, before the rest of his senses kicked into gear. Without even giving it much thought, he knew he was in a dumpster again. And that his neighbors had Sal’s Italian for takeout that night, because Clint knew that balsamic reduction and his clam linguine _anywhere_. Clint cracked one eye open and groaned, almost afraid to move a muscle. The garbage shifted underneath him; a flattened cardboard box dug into his side, since some asshole chose not to recycle it.

“Too bright,” Clint muttered. His throat felt like glass. He struggled out of his sprawl and reached for the lip of the dumpster to pull himself up. Clint heaved himself over the side, landing barefoot in the alley. To his relief, he was in his boxers and t-shirt, telling him that he hadn’t shifted. This was just the morning after a bender. His memories were still in that vague, gray muddle and his mouth tasted like paste. Clint would need a few more hours to recall all of it. 

“Man, I need a shower…” He glanced down at his favorite t-shirt and saw a huge stain whose source he didn’t want to guess. “Aw, Aerosmith shirt, no…” Well, that sucked. Clint wandered toward the mouth of the alley and noticed he was right outside his own building.

 _Sweet_. 

Which meant that _this_ fire escape would take him right up to his own window so he wouldn’t have to wander inside through the front door. It was one thing to end up sneaking in naked after a shift; he’d done it more than once, and so had Rogers, and the two of ‘em covered for each other more than once. _Oh, hey, that’s my dog, Rufus, he got out again. Yeah, I know he ain’t got tags yet, I’m working on it. I’m getting him microchipped next week. You don’t hafta call Animal Control, he’s a real lover. Good boy, buddy._

Clint’s hangover was already subsiding, thanks to his lycan antibodies, but he would still kill for some ham and eggs. He headed up the metal stairs, shivering a little in the brisk morning drafts. He was relieved to find his window unlocked and slightly ajar. Clint hoisted it open with a low grunt and shimmied his way into his kitchen, accidentally knocking his commuter coffee cup off the counter for his troubles. At least it was empty; spilling his coffee on top of everything else would have been _tragic_.

Clint saw the wreckage of his apartment right away, sparking memories of the last twelve hours. Scattered playing cards; looked like a rousing game of five-card stud. At least it wasn’t strip poker this time; Clint didn’t see any other discarded clothes except his. Hey. There were two of his poker buddies sprawled across the couch. The room reeked of stale beer and tequila. That was Sam and Steve bundled together on the couch, looking surprisingly cute despite their rumpled clothing and all the drool. The contrast between the two of them was striking; Sam’s beefy arm engulfed Steve and his chin was tipped down protectively over Steve’s brow. Steve’s skinny, fair limb sprawled across Sam’s body in a grip that Clint could only call possessive, and how were these two idiots so clueless whenever they were awake???

“Hey,” Clint croaked. “Get a room, you two.”

Sam jerked awake first, groaning at the crick in his neck that the motion disturbed. His dark eyes looked squinty and puffy, and he smacked his lips.

“Dang,” he muttered. “What time’s it?” He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand and automatically reached down to give Steve a gentle shake. He didn’t look irritated or surprised at his best friend’s choice to use him as a body pillow. Steve was still snoring; his lycan genes didn’t cure him of his deviated septum. Guy could really saw some logs. “Rogers. Steve. C’mon, man, I gotta pee.”

Steve smacked his lips and groaned, stretching one arm free of their tangle of limbs before he rubbed his cheek against the side of Sam’s neck. “Still tired,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t tell you to eat all those wings last night, man.”

“Yeah, but the tequila _was_ your bright idea, so. Hey.” 

Sam clapped him on the shoulder and started to pry himself loose, despite Steve’s noisy complaints.

“C’mon, m’all cozy.”

“Tell that to my bladder. Barton, you got any Tylenol?”

“I’m making coffee,” Clint offered as he rinsed out the carafe and dumped out the old grounds in the basket.

“Even better,” Sam said. “Steve. UP. Now.”

Steve whined and let Sam extricate himself and haul himself up from the couch. Sam reached down and ruffled Steve’s sandy hair on his way to the bathroom. The door thunked shut after him but didn’t block out the long, hissing stream into the toilet or Sam’s sigh of relief.

“How did I end up in the dumpster?” Clint demanded.

“Got me, Barton,” Steve told him, yawning. “You didn’t shift?”

“I ain’t naked, so. No.”

“Hm. Wow. Okay. That’s a mystery, then. Gimme an hour or two and maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“You two didn’t wake up in the dumpster.”

“It’s weird enough that we woke up in your apartment, buddy.”

Clint considered that and shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. Anyhoo.

Clint started to pull random foods from the fridge while Steve guiltily went around the living room with a garbage bag, throwing away empty bottles and takeout containers, righting tumbled cushions. His bedhead and the shallow pillow crease in his cheek made him look younger, and his rumpled clothes swamped his wiry frame.

“You don’t have to work tonight, do you?” Steve asked.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday.”

Okay. At least they hadn’t cut loose on a week night, but still. “Not this time. I traded with Grills.”

“Nice. Hey, that means you can come out with Sam and I tonight!”

Clint winced.

Okay.

Maybe the thought would appeal to him when his mouth no longer tasted like burning rubber. All three of them had put their lycan healing factors through the wringer with the tequila and goodness knows what else that they consumed, and Clint didn’t know how soon he’d be up for more mischief. That wasn’t the only thing slowing his roll.

Sam and Steve were trying to get him back “out there,” and the thought of that scared him to death. It wasn’t like he wasn’t doing fine on his own, right?

Right?

“It ain’t payday weekend, Rogers.”

“Pfffft… so? Sam’s buying,” he offered generously. “No. Seriously. Let’s just go out. I need a night out. It’s been so frigging tense lately, y’know? I’ve just… ever since everything happened, I’ve been really pent up, and it sucks.”

Tense. Understatement of the year, Rogers, fer cryin’ out loud…

Photos of Alexander Pierce sedately exiting from his lab with a police escort gradually gave way to every news outlet blasting his mug shot. Piercetech Health Systems’ stock shares tanked on the market the moment the press got the first whiff of the CEO’s hand in parahuman experimentation. Medical and procedure records were seized along with the security camera footage, and a hefty body count left Pierce with a rap sheet that was _miles_ long.

The parahuman community lived in terror as their friends, family, and neighbors disappeared. Clint remembered the nightmares that plagued his sleep - the nightmares didn’t get any less unsettling just ‘cause he slept during the _day_ , you could miss Clint with that shit - when the earliest reports hit the news, marching across the TV screen in red ticker tape.

The night Rogers disappeared, well. Then, it became too real, hit way too fuckin’ close to home. Didn’t matter that Steve was a maverick. Clint’s gut churned every time he walked past Rogers’ empty apartment, unable to ignore how his scent was growing colder every day, just dwindling away. Clint knew it went against the pack’s code when he broke into Steve’s apartment (back before he became the building’s super, granted, but yeah, he broke in) and checked his voice mails on his landline, sorted through his place for signs. Any sign at all. Place was still neat as a pin. Clint had to throw out Steve’s milk after it went bad, which sucked, with Steve being as tight-fisted broke as he was. Fuckin’ _Daily Bugle_ barely paid him shit. Clint brought in his mail every day, unwilling to accept the worst case scenario.

Shit happened to mavericks all the time. That’s why you didn’t break the code. Clint shuddered at the memories whenever they drifted back to him.

Wilson still practically smothered Rogers, too, once the pack brought him back in. It’d been months, and Sam seldom let him out of his sight. Clint wouldn’t even give him ~~much~~ shit about it. Well, not all the time.

Just when they were being all clingy like they were now. Sam wandered out of the bathroom, making a face full of strong opinions about the state of Clint’s bathroom.

“Barton. When’s the last time you washed those towels?”

“Washed? As in, actually put them into the washing machine?” Clint shrugged. “What day is it today?”

“Friday?”

“Dunno. Maybe six months ago? Maybe never?”

“I can still smell them from here, Clint! That’s foul!” Sam fanned the air and shook his head. 

“They’re ‘lived in,’ Wilson. Calm down.”

Sam plunked himself back down on the couch, and Steve flopped back down next to him, and then he grabbed the throw blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch, tossed it over the two of them, and snuggled back up to Sam. Sam tilted his head and gave Steve a look.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Steve burrowed into Sam’s side until Sam lifted up his arm and tucked it around him grudgingly.

“Maybe I was gonna get up for the day.”

“Ain’t like you’ve gotta be anywhere,” Steve argued. “And you are up.”

“Up, as in running errands, and getting home to check my mail… okay, now, that’s excessive.” Steve reached for the throw pillow, laid it across Sam’s lap, and then lowered himself down to lay his head there.

“Rub my back,” Steve nagged. “I need your hands. I’ve got a crick from sleeping wrong on it.”

“Steve.”

“Sammy,” Steve whined, turning big, blue puppy dog eyes up at his best friend, looking hopeful. 

Sam growled, long-suffering and resigned, and his fingers proceeded to skritch their way down Steve’s knobby spine through the light fleece blanket. “Somebody’s taking advantage.”

“Somebody’s a real pal. Ooooh, a little lower. Heck, yeah…” Steve let out a groan that sounded ten shades of inappropriate, and Clint’s expression grew panicked.

“Will you two _please_ get a room, preferably somewhere miles from here?!”

Sam snickered and continued the massage. He found Clint’s remote and scrolled through the Roku menu. “Still pirating all this from Grills?”

“You know it. I ain’t gonna pay for that shit.”

“Because you need all that money for so many other important things. Like laundry detergent…”

Clint cheerfully flipped him the bird and went back to making breakfast. He scrambled some eggs and fried up some ham with an iffy expiration date that still smelled okay, because meat protein was a no-brainer. Clint was unabashedly a carnivore; his four food groups included prime rib, In and Out Burger, the colonel’s seven secret herbs and spices, and Starbucks. 

His phone pinged with a message from Nat, which felt redundant when Clint knew her intent from the pack’s link. Flatscans (“normies”), vamps, incubi, and anyone else who landed on the parahuman spectrum just naturally assumed that all werewolves were connected to each other, but… nah. Not quite. Yes, they were pack animals. There was safety in pack living, and protection. But the generalization was too broad, and, y’know. People could be stupid about that kinda shit. It was like saying “Every guy who wears flannel listens to Coldplay and drinks IPAs and nitro brew.” Clint’s pack was close-knit, and their emotions and intentions resonated through his link to them. If he and Nat were a little closer than he was to some of his pack mates, well. Couldn’t be helped. Nat and Clint weren’t soulmates, but they were close. They’d fooled around on and off for longer than they hadn’t. Even then they’d had the “Maybe we should reevaluate where this is going” discussion and stopped officially dating, they landed between the sheets and ended up counting ceiling tiles together, anyway, because that’s just how things were. 

“Nat’s comin’ over. Help me pick up the rest of the trash, you two.”

“Why does Nat get the clean space and we don’t?” Sam accused.

“Because it’s _Nat_ , that’s why.”

That earned him a few rude replies and even ruder gestures, but Sam and Steve helped him get the apartment into some semblance of Less of a Pigsty before they heard the knock on the apartment door.

“Shit!” Steve darted into Clint’s room to find some pants.

“Ain’t like she hasn’t seen it all before, Rogers!” Clint crowed as he answered it. Nat smirked up at him and kissed him hello. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.

“You smell ripe.”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I probably don’t. Is that ham?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re making coffee already. I love you forever.”

“Well, no _shit_.”

Natasha rummaged through his cabinet and found her favorite of his mugs, the one that read _Back That Sass Up_. Clint filled it to the brim with the French roast that he brewed strong enough to put hair on her chest. She practically purred after the first sip.

“This is why you remain my favorite. Remember that.”

“See, guys? I’m her favorite, and you both suck.”

“Do not,” Steve argued.

“Do too. You don’t even know how I ended up in the dumpster.”

“Um, I do,” Nat interjected. “I was there.”

Clint scowled. Nat shrugged.

“You were having a good time.”

“And you didn’t stop me?”

“When have I ever?”

“Since always, when it looks like I’m gonna do something stupid!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Natasha cradled her coffee lovingly and leaned back against the edge of the cluttered dining table. “I’m your best friend, buddy, not your impulse control. Try not to get them confused.”

“So, how did I end up there, then?”

“When Wilson dared you to take that fifth shot of Jaeger and you went out on the edge of the fire escape and pretended to be a rooster.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh,” she mimicked.

“Can’t prove it.”

“Pictures, or it didn’t happen.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows.

Nat gave him a triumphant smile as she whipped her phone out of her purse. She hit play on the tiny screen, and Clint’s drunken, raspy voice filled the room.

“... _CAW-CAW, motherfuckers! Er-er-URH-er-URRRRHHHHH!”_

That was Clint, in his boxers and tee, knobby knees and all, flapping his elbows right before he stumbled off the rail. 

“How are you still _alive_.” Steve’s head swiveled around to Clint as he buttoned his jeans. 

“No thanks to you two.” Then, he realized, “Hey. Why didn’t you stop me, instead of filming this shit?"

“Where’s the fun in that? It was better than watching you lose at strip poker.”

“Wait… we were playing _strip poker?”_

Sam tried to duck behind one of the throw pillows. Steve scrubbed his palm down his face. 

“I mean… _I_ don’t mind watching you lose at it, but these two might have opinions about it.”

“She’s right,” Sam agreed. “I don’t need to see that freckled ass of yours, Barton.”

“Sure, you do, Wilson. Hold on a sec…” Clint turned his back on him and reached for the waistband of his boxers, but Nat stopped him.

“Settle down.”

“You couldn’t have told me ‘Settle down’ when I was on the railing?”

“I was busy creating a memory. For posterity. Drink your coffee.” 

“You’re mean to me.” 

“Awwwwww.”

Natasha took over the job of plating the food and serving it, shooing Clint into his recliner with its tiny rips in the cheap vinyl. His complaints died a premature death when she showed him the cheddar and garlic bagels she brought from the corner bakery and toasted him one just the way he liked it.

“Tell Clint he’s going out with us,” Steve told her.

“Where’s he going?”

“Rapture,” Steve explained. “I know a guy who will let us get in without paying the cover.” 

“Good thing, too. It’s highway robbery. Drinks are overpriced,” Sam complained.

“The drinks are good,” Steve argued.

“You’re just being nice because your ex is the bartender.”

Steve blushed. “So?”

“But Steve’s ex can get us in for free?”

“Why, Nat? You wanna come, too?”

“If it’s free?”

“Not just because you enjoy our company?”

“I wouldn’t if I had to pay for it, Rogers. You’re cute, but not _that _cute.”__

____

____

___Sam tried and failed to hide his little, pleased smile. Nat quirked her brow at him. _I saw that, Wilson._ Because to Sam, Steve _was_ “that cute” and he wasn’t fooling anyone, except maybe Steve Rogers himself. Oblivious Steve, with his inferiority complex and trust issues who simply thought his best friend was merely grateful to have him back in the pack, and that it wasn’t just overprotectiveness that made Sam keep him in his sight so rigidly. _ _ _

___“Rapture, though, huh?” Clint looked less than impressed. “Do I hafta wear real clothes?”_ _ _

___“Let’s start with ‘some.’ The rest is negotiable. You could wear those new jeans I bought you, Barton.”_ _ _

___“Don’t they make my ass look big?”_ _ _

___“Your big ass makes your ass look big.”_ _ _

___“Shut up, Rogers.”_ _ _

___“They make your ass look _nice_ ,” Natasha assured him. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong. And you know how I feel about your ass, so.”_ _ _

___“Please, make it stop.”_ _ _

___“Can we stop talking about Barton’s ass?”_ _ _

___Clint got up and gave it a little switch as he walked back to the kitchen, making Natasha nearly snort coffee out of her nose. They finished breakfast without incident and piled the dishes in the sink._ _ _

___“I think you should go, Clint. Go out with these two tonight. It’s been a while since you’re gone anywhere that wasn’t work or the bodega down the street for beef jerky.”_ _ _

___Clint whined._ _ _

___“C’mon, Barton. A little social interaction would be good for you.” She glanced around his apartment. “And give you the excuse to freshen this place up a little…”_ _ _

___“So I haven’t dated in a while. So?” Clint reached for the milk carton on the top shelf and pried it open, swigging from it without bothering to get a glass. He belched cavernously and scratched his stomach._ _ _

___“Dude. Ew.” Steve grimaced, shuddering._ _ _

___“I’d swipe right on him,” Sam confirmed, quirking his brow._ _ _

___“Charming. Stop that, we don’t know where your mouth has been.” Nat swatted him upside the back of his head and took the carton, closing it before returning it to the fridge._ _ _

___“ _You_ know.” Clint’s expression left nothing a secret._ _ _

___“La-la-la, not listening, I can’t hear you…” Steve clamped his palms over his ears._ _ _

___“My mind just went to an unwelcome place,” Sam told them as he ran water into the sink, waiting for it to get hot. “Now I don’t know if I want you going out with us, Barton. You might do something to get us arrested or thrown out.”_ _ _

___“Well, shit. Just for that, maybe I’ll go, after all. You brought this on yourself, Wilson.”_ _ _

___ _

___*_ _ _

___ _

___The first indignity that Natasha made him suffer was the haircut._ _ _

___“Nineteen ninety-two called, Barton. It wants its boy band drummer look back.”_ _ _

___“What? If it works, why mess with it.”_ _ _

___“This really doesn’t.” Natasha clicked on the clippers, making them buzz ominously loud._ _ _

___“Aw, Nat, no! Hair, no! Awwwww!”_ _ _

___ _

___Wheat blond tufts of hair floated down to the floor, falling down his bare back. Clint sat shirtless in his bathroom while Nat worked on him. Clint sulked. “You’re taking off too much.”_ _ _

___“You know I’m not. I’m just neatening up this mess. I like seeing the line of your neck.”_ _ _

___“Now you sound like a vamp.”_ _ _

___“Is that a turnoff?”_ _ _

___“Well, yeah. No, thank you. I don’t want one of those leeches sucking on me-”_ _ _

___Nat swatted him again, this time in earnest. “Hey. Knock it off. That’s not okay.”_ _ _

___“What? It’s not like they don’t call us furballs. Or creepers. Vamps suck, Nat. Literally and figuratively.”_ _ _

___“That’s narrow-minded of you, Barton.” Nat tsked and kept combing her fingers through his hair, evening up the sides._ _ _

___“Whatever.”_ _ _

___“They’re still people, the way that we’re still people, y’know.”_ _ _

___“People without a fucking pulse. Or a reflection.”_ _ _

___“Or a bedtime. Nocturnal. Usually snappy dressers. Don’t have to breathe much, so the oral play is _phenomenal,” Nat bragged.__ _ _

____“Oh, my God… you’ve been playing for the other team?!” Clint craned his neck around to look at her, even though he could see her in the mirror beside him._ _ _ _

____“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m knocking it. Nope. That’s not a question I need answered, Natalia.”_ _ _ _

____“Whatever. I’m just saying, Clint. Doesn’t hurt to cast that net wide.”_ _ _ _

____“Is that a new dress?”_ _ _ _

____Calling the short, black, snug scrap of tattered mesh and lycra a dress was being generous. The platform heels weren’t suitable for walking further than ten feet._ _ _ _

____“Just something I found in the back of my closet. Never Amazon Prime after a breakup.”_ _ _ _

____Clint stiffened. “Are you blaming me for buying that?”_ _ _ _

____“Blame? No.” Nat turned off the clippers and continued to fluff his hair with her fingers, dusting bits of it off of his shoulders. “I really don’t blame you, Clint. We’re both adults.”_ _ _ _

____“Speak for yourself.”_ _ _ _

____Her smile was a little sad as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Go. Shower. I laid out your jeans for you.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Clint knew Rapture wasn’t his scene from the moment he noticed the red velvet ropes or the line wrapped around the corner. “Awwww! Is this a hipster bar? Are we gonna be paying fifteen dollars for a fucking microbrew?!”_ _ _ _

____“Twelve dollars,” Sam corrected him. “It’s fifteen for the lemon drop martinis.”_ _ _ _

____“Fuck that. Let’s go to the sports bar instead.”_ _ _ _

____“Blasphemy,” Nat told him. “I’m not wasting this dress on the sports bar. Or your haircut.”_ _ _ _

____“Nat, it’s gonna take forever to get in!”_ _ _ _

____“It might not,” Steve suggested as he peered around the edge of the crowd. Then, he whistled sharply through his teeth, drawing the attention of the burley ID checker. Guy was enormous and bald, wearing a pair of coke bottle glasses that looked incongruous on his face. “Guido! GUIDO! HEY! Wanna hook us up?”_ _ _ _

____He looked up and sneered, making a “Come at me” gesture. “Rogers? Is that you? You’re gonna show that ugly mug of yers in my bar?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, and I brought a bunch of my friends, too, pal! What’re you gonna do about it?”_ _ _ _

____“C’mere and say that to my face, ya little punk.”_ _ _ _

____Steve rooster strutted past the rest of the crowd, earning himself jeers and threats to get back in line._ _ _ _

____“They still let you walk the streets, ya big mook?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s Carosella to you, punk. Mook was my ma’s maiden name.” Guido jabbed his finger into Steve’s chest. “What makes ya think we serve yer kind here?”_ _ _ _

____Steve couldn’t hold his composure. “Because I boinked your boss!”_ _ _ _

____“Jesus, Rogers… if ya told me ya made time with my ma, I really woulda had to kick your ass around the block.” Guido grinned. “And he ain’t my boss. You know that. Assistant manager ain’t nothin’ to sneeze at here, though. Just don’t let Bucky get a swollen head, don’t say that out loud.”_ _ _ _

____“He’s already got a fat head,” Steve teased. “So, you gonna do us a solid and let us in?”_ _ _ _

____“Ya made it this far, haven’t ya?” Guido unhooked the rope and let Steve in. Steve waved for Natasha, Clint and Sam to catch up to him, earning him a chorus of fuck-offs from the rest of the line. “Quit yer yammerin’, ya riff-raff!”_ _ _ _

____“I almost like that guy,” Clint mused._ _ _ _

____“You two would get on like a house on fire,” Steve told him. “There’s nowhere to sit down here. Maybe we should go out on the patio.”_ _ _ _

____“Of course this place has a patio,” Clint grumbled. It was already too loud, and the techno music was obnoxious. Patrons wore light stick jewelry and tossed back fruity vodka shots like they were Kool-Aid. “I skipped working tonight for this?”_ _ _ _

____“Quit your bitching, Barton. You never mind skipping work.” Then Natasha laughed, nodding over toward the bar. “Your boss is here, anyway.”_ _ _ _

____“Geez…”_ _ _ _

____The one and only Tony Stark. It figured. He wore a sharp two-button Versace suit in dove gray and he stared adoringly at his girlfriend, who perched up on a barstool, endlessly long legs crossed and high-heeled sandal swinging as she scrolled through his phone._ _ _ _

____“We need to move your meeting with Lensherr to next Wednesday.”_ _ _ _

____“Can’t. That’s my mani-pedi day.”_ _ _ _

____“No. That’s Thursday. I moved it to Thursday so you could make this meeting with Erik-”_ _ _ _

____“Pep! No!” Tony whined. “My heels are crusty! _So_ crusty. You can’t do this to me!”_ _ _ _

____“I can, and I have, darling. Don’t pout. Your heel crust can wait. Your new steel contract with Erik Lensherr can’t. And stop giving me those big puppy dog eyes. You know they won’t work on me.”_ _ _ _

____“Not even a little?” Tony made a canine whine in his throat and poured it on even thicker with his plaintive expression._ _ _ _

____“Nnnnnope.”_ _ _ _

____Then Tony caught Clint in the corner of his eye. He swiveled around and made a beeline for him. “Aren’t you supposed to be working tonight, Barton? Not mingling with the rest of the unwashed masses?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s no way to talk about Pepper, Boss. C’mon.”_ _ _ _

____Pepper snorted. “Ha, ha. Because that wisecrack isn’t coming out of your check.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey. I was dragged here under extreme duress.”_ _ _ _

____“You were dragged, Clint? I want to meet the badass that managed to - oh, never mind, of course it was Nat.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m getting a draft just looking at you, Tasha,” Pepper told her._ _ _ _

____“She lost a fight with a cheese grater,” Clint joked._ _ _ _

____“ _That_ was cheesy, Barton. Keep it up, and I’m not buying you any shots.”_ _ _ _

____Clint’s eyes crinkled, and he knocked his shoulder into hers for a moment. Nat huffed and sauntered off, done with him for a while. Her reserve became more deliberate as she worked the room. Clint was her safe place. A friend with benefits, once, and still friends once the benefits wore off. It was almost fun to watch the patrons of the bar notice her, rubbernecking for a glimpse of the lithe legs, or the perfect ass._ _ _ _

____Clint knew what she looked like wearing his shirts and her homeliest pajama pants, though. He knew that she talked in her sleep and that she couldn’t eat dairy. Clint knew Natasha inside and out by now, and he knew from the jump that they would never be more than a “maybe” going in. Clint was used to being a “maybe” for a lot of people. Nothing new. Didn’t hurt his feelings ~~much~~. Permanence wasn’t really a thing with Clint. _ _ _ _

____Foster homes. Jobs. Relationships. The only thing in his life so far that he could count on, lickety split and every damned day, was his curse. His lycan factor made every night a party and every morning, waking up to the glaring light of day, a chore and an ordeal. His gig as a super wasn’t ideal when everyone in his building worked during the day and he still had to haul his tookus outta bed during waking hours to unclog a sink or change out an air filter. Working for Stark made him the real money, and he enjoyed being a guard. The uniform made him feel important, and the benefits were top notch. Dental, huge life insurance package, nice stock options, and “flexible hours.” What else could Clint ask for? Clint could book his paid nights off for “that time of the month” without Human Resources raising so much as an eyebrow. Being the building super as a side gig gave him free rent. Clint joked that Sam was buying the drinks, but he could manage that just fine on his own._ _ _ _

____It felt good to have Steve in his radius again, just off to the side. Clint itched at the memory of the void when Steve went maverick, at how wrong his absence felt. Clint had been forced to abandon him (pack dictates, not his, because sometimes pack code was _just that fucked up_ ), having to turn his back on him and cut him a wide berth. Clint missed his banter, his scent (‘course he teased Rogers that he could clear a room with his pong, but he didn’t mean it), and that low, comforting burr in his deep voice with its distinctive Brooklyn accent and intact adenoids. When he was a maverick, Clint lied to himself that it was just one more person who wouldn’t stay, just when he was starting to get good and attached. Clint had missed Wilson and Rogers doing that thing, again, too. Two of ‘em waltzed around more than Ginger and Fred to avoid their real feelings, but Clint could tell, Nat could tell… everyone could tell except these two chuckleheads. Steve was leaning in a little too close, and Sam was giving him that little sidelong, lopsided smile that brought out his dimples as they worked on their first pints._ _ _ _

____The opening bars of “Bad Guy” piped through the speakers, and Sam jerked up from the bar like it scorched him. He shimmied his shoulders and backed his way toward the dance floor, beckoning to Steve. “C’mon, don’t leave me hanging! You know you want to, Steve!”_ _ _ _

____“Nope. This one’s all you, buddy. Knock yourself out.”_ _ _ _

____“Seriously?” Sam gestured to himself, then threw up his hands.”No?”_ _ _ _

____“Sam…”_ _ _ _

____“Please?”_ _ _ _

____“Sorry, pal.”_ _ _ _

____“Nat,” Sam called out, when he noticed that Natasha was nursing her own fruity drink. She gave Sam a long-suffering look and handed her drink to Steve._ _ _ _

____“Watch that.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m good with that.” Steve sniffed it and pulled a face. “How can you stand this shit?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s yummy, you heathen!”_ _ _ _

____Sam led Nat out onto the floor, and the two of them showed off. Steve watched them with longing. His sigh was gusty._ _ _ _

____“Those two,” Clint muttered._ _ _ _

____“Right?” Then Steve said, “Hey. Look who’s here!”_ _ _ _

____“Who-”_ _ _ _

____“Buck! BUCKY!” Steve called out across the bar, and Clint had no clue who he meant, since he didn’t see anyone that looked like they could answer to such a stupid sounding nickname, until…_ _ _ _

____The two bartenders behind the counter moved aside, pouring shots double-fisted and turning the bar into a dripping mess, and this guy who looked too pretty to be real turned at the sound of Rogers’ voice. He set down a big cardboard crate of bottles behind the bar and nodded, face lighting up in a way that made Clint’s gut kick._ _ _ _

_____Fuck._ _ _ _ _

____He covered the reaction with a disbelieving “Did you just call him _Bucky_?”_ _ _ _

____“He answers to it. Nobody’s called him by his birth name since the Revolutionary War, so. Buck, c’mere! You remember Clint?”_ _ _ _

____Those eyes. Holy _shit_. Clint took him in by degrees. Translucent, fair skin. Clint made out the fine network of bluish veins in his arms, temples and neck. The eyes, though. You could tell he was a vamp from ten feet away, even without that weird tang that they always had to their scent. Bar was full of ‘em, anyway. Clint knew that as soon as he walked in the door. This guy, though. He was just _unreal_. Those arms. That _mouth_. That little cleft in his chin. His hair, thick and dark, shone with a hint of whatever product he used in it, and it was scraped back from his face into a messy ponytail. _ _ _ _

____“Do I remember Clint? Uh. Should… I?” That voice. Deep. Apologetic. It lilted with the question. “Wait. You and Rogers. You’re neighbors, right?” His eyes crinkled a little with his smile._ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Uh. And he’s, y’know. In my pack.” Clint was at a loss. He needed to clarify the context, because he was at a complete loss with what to say to this guy._ _ _ _

____Bucky nodded, folding his arms, because of course that ridiculous long-sleeved black buttondown had the sleeves rolled up, making Clint focus on those biceps with their elegant veins. That wasn’t helping. Nope. Not at all._ _ _ _

____“Welp.” Clint downed the rest of his beer, working it down his throat as fast as he could manage, catching the dribbles around the corners of his mouth with the backs of his knuckles. “Later.” He turned on his heel and beelined for the back patio, where the second DJ assailed his ears with more techno music. His senses were already overstimulated, and there were too many bodies out there, too, just like there were inside, but at least Clint could see the three-quarters waning gibbous moon overhead. It helped, somehow. Calmed down his pulse, which was racing for fuckall knew why._ _ _ _

____Why had he done that?_ _ _ _

____Behind him, Steve huffed._ _ _ _

____“That was abrupt,” Bucky murmured. “Is he okay?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s fine. That’s just _Clint._ ” Steve let out an exasperated sigh, tugging on the back of his hair. _ _ _ _

____“Really?” Bucky leaned against the edge of the bar. “I didn’t just do anything to weird him out, did I?”_ _ _ _

____“You? No! Of course not!”_ _ _ _

____“Because I feel like I weirded him out…” Bucky glanced after him. He moved gracefully for someone that tall. Not a normie, obviously, which he’d just told Bucky, right? That alone appealed to him, even without the guy being, well, cute._ _ _ _

____“You didn’t! Trust me, nothing can weird him out. It’s _Clint_. Just about anything goes with that guy, believe me.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky looked intrigued. “Anything?”_ _ _ _

____Steve heard the hopeful tone and nodded. He chuckled and took a sip of Nat’s drink, then grimaced. “Why do you guys serve this froufrou shit?”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, I came up with that drink! It’s one of our bestsellers.”_ _ _ _

____“It is _not_.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, it is!”_ _ _ _

____“Buck, this tastes like horse piss squeezed through a dirty sock!”_ _ _ _

____“You’re such an asshole, it does not!”_ _ _ _

____“Does too!”_ _ _ _

____“Why are we even friends?!”_ _ _ _

____“Well, why not?”_ _ _ _

____“I question my judgment…”_ _ _ _

____“Never told you not to, pal.”_ _ _ _

____“Punk.”_ _ _ _

____Steve just smirked at him as he set down Nat’s drink and gulped at his own pint._ _ _ _

____“Hey. How have you been, Stevie.”_ _ _ _

____“Fine. Considering.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky gave him a considering, wistful look. “Good.’_ _ _ _

____Steve glanced away for a moment, then faced him again. His grip on Bucky’s wrist was warm, with a snugness borne of familiarity. “How’ve _you_ been, Bucky?”_ _ _ _

____“Y’know. Burning the midnight oil. Just messing around. Well, not even that. Just always working. It’s just… easier.”_ _ _ _

____“Easier than what?”_ _ _ _

____“Going home to an empty apartment.”_ _ _ _

____Steve nodded, but his smile was a little sad. Wistful._ _ _ _

____“Gonna get back to work. I _do_ that, y’know.”_ _ _ _

____“I know ya do, Buck.” Steve squeezed his wrist, but Bucky gently pulled away._ _ _ _

_____I miss you._ The sentiment hung between them like the smell of a lived-in apartment when you first walked in through the door._ _ _ _

____Bucky gave him that smile that Steve hadn’t been able to resist, once, until the day came that he could. Things happened. Life, or whatever passed for life when it came to people like them, happened._ _ _ _

____Bucky turned to leave, but then thought better of it. “Hey, Stevie.”_ _ _ _

____Steve paused, beer paused just short of his lips. “Hm?”_ _ _ _

____“Tell him I hope it was nothing I said?”_ _ _ _

____“Who?”_ _ _ _

____“Clint. Your buddy.”_ _ _ _

____Steve huffed. “It wasn’t. Don’t worry about it.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Yet it irked Bucky for the rest of the night._ _ _ _

____Bucky focused on his work. Checking on the bartenders on the patio and checking in with Guido out front. Stocking the bar. Doing quality checks of the bathrooms and giving an ardent couple occupying the handicapped stall a firm knock and polite warning. He headed for the back office, where he found Ororo on her PC, the monitor’s dim glow illuminating her perfect features and smooth, dark skin. She smiled up at him._ _ _ _

____“Hullo, James.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey. Everything’s looking good out front. I’m gonna take a break.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s fine. The security feeds are working fine from here.” She indicated the footage from the four different cams on the property. “The display is much clearer, now.”_ _ _ _

____“Just don’t catch my bad side.”_ _ _ _

____She snorted at him. “You’re assuming that I’m letting you out of my sight for so much as a second?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m fine.”_ _ _ _

____“I know.”_ _ _ _

____“I am. Really.”_ _ _ _

____“I know that.” Her eyes clouded, swirling bright, glowing red for a moment before returning to their usual blue. “I have strong opinions about whether you’re safe, sound, and all in one piece. Humor me.”_ _ _ _

____“Some people might be a little creeped out by all this concern.”_ _ _ _

____“Mmmmm.” She gave him an appraising look, then reached up and pinched his cheek. Bucky rolled his eyes and gave her an aggrieved sigh._ _ _ _

____“Going on my break.”_ _ _ _

____“Take it out on the patio,” she suggested. “Oh, and there’s some of that nice O-negative infused cabernet in the mini fridge over there. I’ve been saving it for you, before Emma and Jean come over and clean me out.”_ _ _ _

____Her tone was annoyed but fond. Bucky knew she stocked extra of that vintage for her favorites among her coven. “I just ate.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s fine.” Ororo went back to watching the security feeds and sipped from her own half-empty glass. “Don’t be shy about it if you change your mind, sweetheart.”_ _ _ _

____She told him that with the same fondness you’d reserve for telling your son that you washed his football jersey. Fair enough. Ororo _did_ sire him, after all. Despite an after-lifetime of hunger, self-recriminations and violence, there were times like these where Bucky’s existence felt almost… suburban._ _ _ _

____Bucky took her advice and wandered out to the patio._ _ _ _

____There._ _ _ _

____He was as tall as Bucky thought, all right, easily towering over him, even though Bucky was average sized, himself. The glowing chips of light thrown from the mirror ball seemed to love him, dancing over that mildly tanned skin and sandy blond hair, flickering in his blue eyes. That gave him a warm tingle. One of Steve’s pack. Lycan, then. It surprised Clint that he was out here without Sam, Steve and Natasha, then, if that was who he came in with. Packmates usually crowded together in little clusters, practically in each other’s pockets. Bucky watched him from the edge of the dance floor. Clint sat at the bar, nursing another beer and looking on edge and uncomfortable. Bucky made a decision, pleased with it as he headed for the DJ stand. He wrote a request on a napkin, and Alison, grooving a little to the disc that was already spinning, nodded up at him, changing the song._ _ _ _

____The abrupt shift from Sia to Journey made the sweaty bodies crowded onto the dance floor pause and gradually move toward the bar. Clint looked up from his beer, surprised and glancing around the patio. After a few moments, Bucky watched him mouth the words, _She’s just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world_ as he turned back to his drink. His big, invitingly broad shoulders relaxed a few notches, and Bucky palpably felt the tension drain out of him. _ _ _ _

____Bucky stepped behind the bar, laying a gentle hand on Kitty’s back. “Hey. Take your break. I’ll take over, here.”_ _ _ _

____“Sweet.” She didn’t tell him that she’d just had one an hour ago. Kitty tossed her hand towel down and slipped out while Bucky resumed slicing the small tray of lime wedges she’d abandoned._ _ _ _

____Clint recognized the sound of his voice and glanced up, and he felt heat rise all the way up to his ears._ _ _ _

____“How’s that beer treating you, Clint?”_ _ _ _

____“Like a baby treats a diaper.” He swirled what was left of it around in the pint glass. “Poured it with too much head.”_ _ _ _

____“I can fix that.” Bucky took the glass from him, and their fingertips grazed. Bucky dumped out the glass and deftly poured Clint a fresh one from the tap. “On me.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t tell me that, pal. I’m the wrong guy to be offerin’ anything for free.” Even though _On me_ felt like a loaded phrase to Clint and made his mind wander. His hands itched to roam over that body and mess him up. _ _ _ _

____“I do what I want.”_ _ _ _

____“Sure, you do.”_ _ _ _

____Clint’s eyes threw down a challenge. Bucky huffed._ _ _ _

____“I know your boss. I bet she keeps you in line pretty hard.”_ _ _ _

____“I keep myself in line.” Bucky folded his arms, drawing Clint’s attention back to them, and suddenly, his beer tasted like water. “Unless I find someone else that wants the job, and even then… I’m a handful.”_ _ _ _

____Lust kicked in Clint’s gut. His eyes dilated despite the bright blots of strobe lights flashing around them. Bucky smirked._ _ _ _

____“You might be knockin’ on the wrong door, pal.”_ _ _ _

____“You taken?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope.” Clint took a sip of the beer, and damn it, it was a good pour. “Maybe I just value my jugular.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky chuckled. “Guess I read you wrong, then. My first impression is that you like taking risks. And that maybe you aren’t afraid to play a little rough.”_ _ _ _

____“He’s not.” Nat hovered over Clint’s shoulder. Her soft red waves brushed his shoulder as she leaned into him. “Clint’s not afraid of anything. Don’t be fooled by his Boy Scout act.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey.” Clint craned his neck around to give her a wounded look. “Why do you have to call me out like this?”_ _ _ _

____“Stop being a dumbass,” she murmured into his ear, not caring if Bucky heard. She still offered Bucky an angelic smile. “I’ll take a mojito, and his beer is on me.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s already on me,” Bucky corrected her._ _ _ _

____“Awww. That’s sweet.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky smirked again, shaking his head as he mixed her drink. Nat looped her hand possessively through the crook of Clint’s arm; her breast bumped up against the back of it when she leaned in again._ _ _ _

____“What?” Clint muttered._ _ _ _

____“Sam let me behind for Steve. They ran off and played darts, and now I’m bored.”_ _ _ _

____“I wasn’t the one who wanted to come here?”_ _ _ _

____Nat gave him a soulful pout._ _ _ _

____“Don’t give me that look. _Nat._ ”_ _ _ _

____“Dance with me, Barton. Please? With sugar on top?”_ _ _ _

____“My ass isn’t leaving this barstool.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky watched the two of them in amusement, intrigued._ _ _ _

____“It’s a slow song.”_ _ _ _

____“You don’t dance to Journey. You _drink_ to Journey. Just ask Steve Perry. He’ll agree with me.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky moved on to the next customer and took their order for two pints, executing two more perfect pours._ _ _ _

____“You might as well get up and dance, since you’re sitting here and wasting a golden opportunity.”_ _ _ _

____“What opportunity?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s single, and he’s clearly interested.”_ _ _ _

____“So?”_ _ _ _

____“You’ve definitely noticed him.”_ _ _ _

____“Noticed what? That he’s a hipster with a bunch of bad lines?”_ _ _ _

____“He’s got your musk up. You’re giving off pheromones, buddy. You’re trying to impress him. Last time you smelled like this, you were talking to _me_.”_ _ _ _

____Clint made a sound of disgust. “Bullshit. It doesn’t work that way. He’s…” Clint paused and glanced at Bucky again, whose back was turned as he mixed what looked like a fancy margarita. “He’s a _vamp_. They don’t respond to scent like we do, Nat. Sheesh. Learn your biology.”_ _ _ _

____“They’re more like us than you think,” she said simply. “Oh, look, Journey’s over, there’s a song we can dance to.”_ _ _ _

____“Why are you doing this?”_ _ _ _

____“For your own good, because you’re being a dumbass. Get up. Come and dance. It’s painful watching you let a good thing get by.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve never let a good thing get by a day in my life. Anyone who’s ever left me, left me because they _left me_. Not because I wasn’t paying fucking attention.”_ _ _ _

____Natasha gave him a brittle laugh, shaking her head right before she bodily halted him off the bar stool, making him spill his beer a little as he was forced to set it down. “Not because you weren’t paying attention…” she mimicked._ _ _ _

____“HEY!”_ _ _ _

____“Dumbass.” She tugged him out onto the floor, and he halfheartedly danced, and to her credit, maybe it was a song he actually liked, and maybe there was something nice about the crush of bodies around him for a change. Sometimes, Clint needed open spaces - what lycan didn’t? - but sometimes, he needed to run with his pack for a while. Clint craved stimulation. Scents. Clamor. Buffeting limbs and the buzz of conversations. The sharp tang of lime wedges and salt-rimmed glasses. Sweaty skin… shit. He reached for Nat out of long habit, hand resting on the curve of her waist, and that dress was doing things to his resolve, until he reminded himself that they weren’t dating anymore. But he moved with her smoothly, enjoying the deliciousness of her smirk and the shake of her hips. Some things were old hat. Her hair smelled like oranges and tickled his chin when she turned around, backing against him and looping her wrist around his nape._ _ _ _

____“Quit putting on a show,” he growled._ _ _ _

____“Okay. You put one on, then.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve never needed to,” he argued. “What you see is what you get with me.”_ _ _ _

____“What people see isn’t bad when you clean it up a little and give it a little flash. That’s the difference between them seeing you, and getting up close and personal, Clint.”_ _ _ _

____“I never asked you to clean me up, Nat.”_ _ _ _

____“You did. Not in so many words, but finding you in a dumpster was my first clue that I needed to save you from yourself. That speaks kinda loud. And I saved you from those skinny jeans. They were _heinous_. You’re welcome, by the way.”_ _ _ _

____“And hey, maybe I don’t want anyone getting up close and personal? Did you ever think of that?”_ _ _ _

____“Liar.”_ _ _ _

____She moved against him, expression sultry, and no one watching would guess that they were bickering._ _ _ _

____“I don’t need you matchmaking for me.”_ _ _ _

____“I know you don’t.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky turned at that moment, and fuck, his eyes. They were doing that little glowy, smoldering thing, and his pupils dilated. He licked his lips, making Clint wonder how they tasted, and he turned away to towel an empty beer mug dry, drawing Clint’s attention back to those hands, those arms. Clint’s own hands tightened around Nat’s hips in response._ _ _ _

____“Sure. You’re not interested in him at _all_ ,” Nat teased._ _ _ _

____“Shut up.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Sam and Steve hooted and clapped for the two of them once Nat decided to have mercy on him, three songs later, but by the time Clint retrieved his beer, Bucky had disappeared._ _ _ _

____“Damn, okay. I see how it is, Natasha. You hold back and just save me the grandmaw dancing, but you shake a tailfeather with Barton.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t dance like anybody’s grandma, shut your mouth!” Nat pouted at him as he handed her another fruity vodka shot._ _ _ _

____“What you were doing with Barton was something else. I don’t even know if I’d call that dancing. You two get detention. Hands above the waist, young man,” Steve chimed in._ _ _ _

____“I was behaving myself. Blame your girl, here.”_ _ _ _

____“Nobody’s ever gonna believe you were behaving yourself, Clint.”_ _ _ _

____Clint ~~looked around for Bucky~~ sipped his beer and acted casual, and he noticed that the young, spritely brunette in leggings and piercings everywhere was working the bar now. Kid looked barely legal, but she was probably about a century and a half in vamp years. She caught him glancing at her and smirked; Clint frowned and ducked, slinking down a little in his seat as he resumed his beer, the fresh one Nat bought him for the earlier indignity. Still too much head._ _ _ _

____Such a disappointment._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Three mornings later, Clint woke up feeling rough again, but at least this time, he was half-tangled in his own sheets, which could still stand a trip to the laundromat. Mouth tasted pasty and like iron, not stale booze; that told him he changed and went out for a hunt. Flashes of memory came to him as he rolled to his back and sat up. He couldn’t quite place his prey… wait._ _ _ _

____“Rabbit,” he muttered aloud. “Nice.” He burped and groaned as he tasted it again. When he dragged himself from bed and caught sight of himself in the mirror, he caught the smears of dried, caked-on blood around the corners of his mouth and the scratches all over his arms, legs and hands. At least this time, he didn’t tangle with anything bigger than him. That encounter with a brown bear was a night to remember. He remembered how he made the guys from Animal Control piss themselves when they tried to snare him in their loop right before he transitioned and stood up, furry and cursing. “That fucker started it!” he’d shouted, jerking his fist toward the bear, who was growling, standing up on its hind legs and just as surprised. Good times._ _ _ _

____Clint stepped into the shower and turned it on, standing under the spray before it even had the chance to get warm. Blood and dirt specks swirled down the drain as he began to soap up, clawing leaves and bits of God knows what out of his hair. Bruises he didn’t even know he had thanked him for the now-hot slap of droplets that promptly dulled the sting. He’d be good in a day, maybe two. The only injury Clint ever had that never quite healed up right was his busted nose. Clint wasn’t werewolf-born like Rogers or Wilson; he and Barney were made. As kids, no less, which was bullshit. Going into foster care should have kept them safe, and Josephine, their foster mom, was nice enough, but her husband Ralph was a mean sonuvabitch and a terrible drunk. They caught him one night out in the barn - sure, Social Services sent them out to the farm, where they were supposed to get fresh air and wide, open spaces, what could be more wholesome than that? - mid-change, and he whirled on them both and lashed Barney with his claws, and bit Clint on the cheek, worrying his face in his jaws for several terrifying seconds before Josephine came running out with the shotgun and let off a couple of warning shots to make him quit. Clint and Barney sat in the office waiting for a new placement the next day. The bandage on Clint’s face felt stiff and thick. It had been the last time his older brother held his hand. After that, Barney couldn’t, or just didn’t cope with the change when it hit. He ran off the following summer from their next foster home and found his own pack, then later went maverick. Clint met Nat, lycan born and protective, and she wouldn’t leave him to his own devices again._ _ _ _

____Being in a pack helped. Clint belonged somewhere, more or less. The echo of their thoughts and emotions made him feel less alone. The tricky part was when he needed space, because that was the other side of being a lycan, and growing up in multiple homes where the adults were calling the shots and convinced they were doing every shitty thing they did or said “for his own good.” An undeveloped temporal lobe, zero impulse control, _and_ lycan genes? Clint spent as much time breaking curfew and ending up grounded as he did _breathing_._ _ _ _

____Cint dragged himself out of the shower and sat on the toilet lid, with a towel wrapped around his hips, and he let the fan blow cooling air over his damp flesh while he performed a little first aid. Nat always bought him bottles of liquid bandage, but Clint liked Band-Aids. Cartoon character ones. They made the ouchies feel better. Nat could argue about aesthetics and his image all she wanted, but you could pry his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle vinyl strips from his cold, dead hands. There. Close enough. That covered most of his cuts, at least the really deep ones. Clint took the time to really groom, even clipping his toenails, but he ended up biting off a wicked hangnail on his thumb that had the nerve to bleed. “Shit,” he hissed sullenly._ _ _ _

____When he got back to his room, he realized that the texts flashing across his phone screen were probably what woke him. It was just a half an hour shy of noon, making the sunlight shine in through his window at that stark, hostile angle that always made waking up from a nap feel like hell. Clint thumbed through his notifications. Rogers was up, too, and not for that long, telling Clint he wasn’t the only one who had a rough night._ _ _ _

_____Sam and I are having brunch. I need you to come look at my sink. It’s draining kinda slow._ _ _ _ _

____“You dumping grease down the drain again, Rogers? Sheesh.” Clint punched in a tart reply, and he saw Steve’s reply bubbling onscreen before it paused, and before his phone rang in his hand._ _ _ _

____“Can’t you just come over and fix it?” Steve said in lieu of hello._ _ _ _

____“Good morning to you, too, and you know you’re supposed to submit a maintenance request through the portal like everybody else.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve got an in with the super. Since when am I everybody else?”_ _ _ _

____Clint snorted._ _ _ _

____“And I told you I’m making brunch. With lots of bacon.”_ _ _ _

____“You didn’t tell me there was bacon.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, now you know.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m there five minutes ago. Well, just give me a minute. Naked now, and all that.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t make me lose my appetite.” He heard Sam’s low chuckle in the background and realized Steve had him on speaker._ _ _ _

____“Quit throwing grease down the drain, Rogers!”_ _ _ _

____“Hurry up and get your butt over here!”_ _ _ _

____They rang off, and Clint managed to find one last clean tee in his dresser, already stained and a little torn around the edges, perfect for crawling under Steve’s sink. He tugged on boxers and his favorite beat-up jeans, so old they felt like velvet. He didn’t bother combing his hair, deciding to let it dry in its usual waves and peaks. He _did_ bother with deodorant, because he ~~wasn’t a savage~~ could be that considerate, couldn’t he?_ _ _ _

____Clint grabbed his red Husky tool bag, big yellow flashlight, and a handful of old, stained, torn microfiber towels and headed down the stairwell. Three flights took him to Rogers’ corridor, and he smelled the bacon before he even knocked on the door. His stomach grumbled in response, and he heard Steve’s deep, soft laugh and light footsteps before he jerked the door open and greeted him._ _ _ _

____“Bout time you walked among the living. I messaged you an hour ago, too.”_ _ _ _

____“You know better than that, Steve,” Sam teased as Clint fist-bumped Steve and let himself in. “Hey. Why’s it so dark in here?”_ _ _ _

____“I got some new room darkening blinds and curtains,” Steve explained. “I just think it makes it nicer in here for company.”_ _ _ _

____“What company needs it all eerie and -”_ _ _ _

____“Hey,” Bucky called from the kitchen as he brought a bowl of fruit salad to the table. He looked fresh-scrubbed and surprisingly alert for a guy who should probably be home in bed at that hour. Not that Clint was an authority on that sort of thing…_ _ _ _

____Clint cocked his head, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. His head swiveled around to stare at his two oldest friends._ _ _ _

____“I took the subway. And carried my big umbrella,” Bucky explained before Clint even asked. “And stayed in the shade. Weather’s not bad today.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s already a hundred and two,” Clint argued._ _ _ _

____“Makes me glad I’m cold-blooded,” Bucky told him, shrugging. “Kinda wish I could just sun myself on a rock like a big lizard. But you and I both know that wouldn’t end well.”_ _ _ _

____“Didn’t end well for Steve here last time he woke up after a rough shift on Coney Island. Ended up with a sunburn in some funny places.”_ _ _ _

____“Funny to _you_ ,” Steve sulked. “Somebody’s smug because he’s got melanin _and_ a more aggressive healing factor.” Sam just grinned and gave Steve’s chin a mock punch._ _ _ _

____“That’s how it is,” Sam agreed._ _ _ _

____“I hate you.”_ _ _ _

____“Sure, you do.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky’s expression was unreadable where he stood by the table, unwrapping the plastic from the fruit and setting out flatware and plates._ _ _ _

____“Why are you guys making _him_ set the table?” Clint demanded. “He doesn’t even _eat_.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s just polite,” Bucky said._ _ _ _

____“It’s silly. Sit down. Take a load off. Make those two do it while I fix the sink that Rogers fucked up again.”_ _ _ _

____“Not on purpose!” Steve shot back. “A few potato peels got away from me.”_ _ _ _

____“They don’t get away from you if you peel ‘em over the trash can in the first place. Yer such a heathen, Rogers.”_ _ _ _

____“He learned that word from Natasha,” Sam muttered. “Thinks he’s all important because he’s been listening to her.”_ _ _ _

____“Big whoop,” Steve agreed. But he actually took Clint’s suggestion and waved Bucky into a kitchen chair. “It’s no big deal, Buck. I can do that. Relax. Here, have a drink.” He poured him a cup of coffee and spooned a heaping spoonful of cocoa into it._ _ _ _

____“That’s not blood, Steve.” Clint looked flummoxed._ _ _ _

____“Doesn’t always have to be,” Bucky told him as he took the cup and sipped it. “Mmmm. Is that Belgian chocolate?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t do that Swiss Miss crap.”_ _ _ _

____“There’s nothing wrong with ‘that Swiss Miss crap,’ I grew up on it.” Clint gave both of them a sour look as he opened up the cabinets and removed the garbage can and all of Steve’s cleaning supplies, spreading them out on the linoleum._ _ _ _

____“That explains so much.”_ _ _ _

____“Shut up, Wilson. Quit bein’ all boujee over there and make yourself useful. Turn on my flashlight.”_ _ _ _

____Sam grinned and hunkered down with the light, shining it into the crawlspace while Clint laid down the towels and used his wrench to open up the pipe. “Jesus, it smells like somebody died in here…” Then he turned to Bucky. “Sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“For what?”_ _ _ _

____“Saying ‘Jesus.’ You vamps don’t like that, right?”_ _ _ _

____“What books have you been reading, buddy?” Bucky’s nose scrunched up when he smirked. “That’s an old wives’ tale, and a shitty one at that. Don’t get all ‘Anne Rice’ on me. I was raised as a Catholic, I’ll have you know.”_ _ _ _

____“Holy water won’t burn you to a crisp?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope. Just haven’t gone to confession in about, oh, eighty years.” He met Sam and Steve’s disbelieving looks. “I’m lapsed, okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Hn.” Clint’s brows jerked up for a moment before he ducked back down and went back to work opening and snaking out the pipe. Potato peels, sludge, grease from hamburgers’ past, and God only knew what else started splashing into the big steel pot that Steve lent him to catch it all, and the electric snake made a loud ruckus, briefly suspending conversation._ _ _ _

____“Nasty,” Sam remarked, wrinkling his nose._ _ _ _

____“Tell your boyfriend here to quit dumping everything but the kitchen sink down the kitchen sink, then.”_ _ _ _

____Sam, Steve and Bucky all exchanged a look at the word “boyfriend.” Sam cleared his throat. “We, uh. We picked up some blood, if you want.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ll eat with everyone else,” Bucky told him politely._ _ _ _

____“Do we hafta watch that?” Clint asked. “It’s creepy.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not any creepier than me drinking this,” Bucky told him, holding up the simple mocha._ _ _ _

____“Nah. There’s nothing creepy about watching you drink that,” Clint explained. “But blood’s different.”_ _ _ _

____“No, it’s not!”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, it is!”_ _ _ _

____“No, it’s not!”_ _ _ _

____“You drink coffee. Normal people who aren’t fucking psychopaths drink coffee,” Clint explained as he continued to feed the snake hose into the pipe. A little of the muck splashed the knee of his jeans, but he didn’t care. “I can’t live without it, so. By all means, drink coffee. But, blood? Just drinking it straight-up without a chaser or anything to even water it down?” Clint shuddered._ _ _ _

____“Can’t water it down too much or it loses its nutritional value, and I get anemic, pal. You get that, right? It’s like a transfusion? Ever had to go about your day feeling like you’re down about two pints? That’s me when I don’t feed.”_ _ _ _

____“Shit. ‘Feed.’ Like that creeps me out any less-”_ _ _ _

____“Does it really creep you out that much, Princess?”_ _ _ _

____“Ooooooh…” Sam crooned under his breath, raising his brows at Steve, who was already looking flustered._ _ _ _

____“Guys. C’mon. Let’s have brunch, before everybody gets the hangries. I made eggs! Hash browns! BACON! And Buck, I got you some blood, too.” He opened up the fridge and took out a small, cardboard box that held a couple of single-pint bags with thick, clear tubing at the end of the spouts. “O positive okay?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s fine, Stevie.”_ _ _ _

____“Stevie?” Clint’s brows drew together. “He calls you ‘Stevie?’”_ _ _ _

____“Sure. Buck always has.”_ _ _ _

____“S’cute, I guess.” Sam’s expression was bland, but Clint saw that his hackles were up. Wilson looked like he wasn’t all that tickled about the familiarity coming from Steve’s _ex_. Leaving Clint with the next question: Why the fuck was he here having brunch?_ _ _ _

____“Hurry up with the pipe, Barton, and we can eat,” Steve said, changing the subject. “All of us. Buck, here, put that in a glass. A nice one. There. In that cupboard.” Bucky took down a glass tumbler, and Steve deftly trimmed the tubing with his kitchen shears and drained one of the bags into it._ _ _ _

____“I don’t think you can judge me, Princess,” Bucky told Clint, and that was getting his hackles up, because this pretty boy did _not_ just talk shit, with his perfect teeth and perfect hair and dreamy - okay, _stop that_ , Clint told his libido, _I get the fucking point. Just stop_. “You like to hunt. I bet you like a little blood in your mouth.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, settle down,” Sam suggested. “We aren’t gonna talk like that at the breakfast table. Either of you.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky and Clint stared each other down from across the kitchen. Clint growled, low and guttural in his throat. Bucky’s eyes flashed red, and Clint saw the glint of fangs when Bucky smiled at him this time._ _ _ _

____“Hunting’s natural when I do it,” Clint said. “Primal. _People_ don’t get hurt.”_ _ _ _

____“Sure, they don’t. No lycan’s ever attacked a human in the history of forever.”_ _ _ _

____Clint slapped off the switch to the snake and threw down his wrench with a loud clang. That little vein popped out in the side of his jaw, and his eyes shone like hard, steel chips. Steve looked ashen, and Bucky realized what he’d said and instantly regretted it._ _ _ _

____“Stevie. I didn’t mean it.”_ _ _ _

____“Sure, Buck.”_ _ _ _

____“You didn’t, huh?” Sam accused. He rubbed his nape and retreated to the table. He began to dish up a plate for Steve, who looked stricken. He turned toward the stove and started to neaten it up, but Sam said “C’mon, Steve. Sit. Eat. You did all this work. C’mon, man.”_ _ _ _

____“S’fine. Okay. Clint, it’s unclogged, right?”_ _ _ _

____“Close enough,” he muttered._ _ _ _

____Bucky sighed through his nose and tipped the glass of blood into a commuter cup resting in Steve’s dishrack. He capped the lid onto it with a deft twist and told Steve, “Hey. If you don’t mind it too much, Rogers, I’m gonna take this to go.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a warm squeeze, looking like he wished he could give him a more affectionate goodbye, but Sam was watching, and Bucky didn’t like the tension in the room._ _ _ _

____“Sure, pal. Eat and run,” Clint taunted._ _ _ _

____“Wouldn’t wanna creep you out,” Bucky sang as he strode from the kitchen, grabbed his umbrella from the living room, and let the door shut after himself with a sharp click._ _ _ _

____“That went well,” Steve murmured to no one in particular.”_ _ _ _

____“What, Rogers? What was the point of inviting a _vampire_ to _brunch_?!”_ _ _ _

____“I just wanted to get caught up. That’s all. Just a friendly brunch, Barton. Sheesh…”_ _ _ _

____Clint washed his hands, flicked them savagely into the sink, and dried them on his pants. “Fine. Fuck this shit. I want bacon. Pass the bacon.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky’s words stung him in all the wrong ways, though. Maybe Clint wasn’t the only one with a bias. But that still _sucked_._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____Bucky fumed all the way back to his apartment, distracting himself by mentally solving the crossword over the shoulder of a middle-aged soccer mom on the subway._ _ _ _

____Pluses of accepting Steve’s invite to brunch: Bucky got to see Clint in this battered shirt with the sleeves ripped off and the jeans with the little hole in the seat that framed that ass _perfectly_._ _ _ _

____Minuses of said brunch: Well. _Brunch._ Plus, he made an ass out of himself, Wilson probably hated him now, and he’d ended up rubbing Barton the wrong way. Still, though. What was up with the guy and his assumptions? Bucky was still chafed at letting him get to him, though. Wasn’t like lycans and vamps didn’t have a species-wide beef that spanned _centuries_ ; Bucky acknowledged that, and he lived it. Every time the local lycans tagged the bathroom walls at Rapture, Ororo cursed under her breath, “I wish they’d leave this nonsense to the bloody mortals, paint is _expensive_.” But… Bucky was trying to change. To grow. He hadn’t meant to fall for Steve Rogers. It confused the heck out of him when it happened, but it felt natural. And it pierced Bucky to his core when they split up, but. Shit. They just wanted different things, and it seemed like the grownup thing to do. Walking the earth for over two hundred years left Bucky didn’t automatically qualify Bucky as “grown up,” he supposed, but this wasn’t his first rodeo. He was still willing to broaden his horizons, and on occasion, admit when he was wrong._ _ _ _

____Bucky sipped his blood and silently wished it was coffee. Maybe they could’ve had a decent conversation over coffee, Bucky mused. Maybe Barton was less bitchy when he was caffeinated._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Clint went to work the following week, watching the security footage from the front booth at Tony’s main branch. It always puzzled Clint why Tony even bothered with security when he rarely left his building, anyway. Tony Stark was an Elder vampire and a CEO; his detractors joked that “you can’t tell the difference, either way” since both were out for blood. _Har-de-har-har._ Pepper took care of his books and the rest of his needs and still refused to be turned. _ _ _ _

____“I’m gonna wear you down one of these days, Pep.”_ _ _ _

____“And pigs might fly. I’m not doing this for eternity, buddy. Deal with it.”_ _ _ _

____Still, Clint reasoned. They were cute. What they had worked, or it at least seemed like it. Okay._ _ _ _

____Clint waited at the desk and heard his stomach growl. He’d dispatched a whole roasted chicken from Costco before he clocked in, but he was feeling peckish again by nine PM. A couple of overpriced Slim Jims from the vending machine barely took the edge off. He texted Steve, who was busy burning the midnight oil at the _Bugle_ design desk and getting ready to take a break. _ _ _ _

_____I’d kill for some pizza right about now._ _ _ _ _

_____You buying?_ _ _ _ _

_____Maybe. Even though brunch was on me, the last time._ _ _ _ _

_____Brunch was on you because you were the one who wanted brunch. This is pizza. Pizza is different._ _ _ _ _

____Steve sent back laughing emojis and a little pizza slice. _Fine. If I can get free, I’ll have some delivered.__ _ _ _

____“Nice.” Visions of an extra large, all-meat pie danced in Clint’s head._ _ _ _

____“Hey, Barton, Pepper’s ordering in.”_ _ _ _

____“What’s she getting?” Clint asked. Tony was dressed in casual togs; the Led Zeppelin shirt was faded from endless washings._ _ _ _

____“Szechuan noodles for her, A-negative for me.”_ _ _ _

____“No pizza?”_ _ _ _

____“No, and let me just take a minute to say I resent that you get to indulge in it. It looks and smells _amazing_ and I haven’t had any since my parents sailed us to Italy after the French Revolution. It was an appetizer before the real supper.” Tony’s voice was wistful. _ _ _ _

____“Sucks, pal.”_ _ _ _

____“You and your puns, hahaha, you’re fired…”_ _ _ _

____Clint held up his hands, smirking. Tony flipped him off as he headed downstairs to his lab. Clint read a Richie Rich comic that he picked up at his local store’s dollar bin and chuckled over it for a while before he went back to watching the feeds._ _ _ _

____Steve texted him again. _Hey. Bad news. Can’t make it over. Gotta finish my layout. Just got some photos from Parker and Betty’s byline piece about a truck crash that just happened twenty minutes ago. I’m still ordering you pizza, though.__ _ _ _

____Clint huffed. _Fuck that. You don’t have to do that if you can’t come over, Rogers.__ _ _ _

____Steve texted him back quickly. _No. You deserve it. Brunch kinda sucked. I’m sorry, okay?__ _ _ _

____At least he admitted it. Clint sighed and tapped away at his screen with his thumb. _Hey. No harm, no foul, okay? We just didn’t gel, I guess. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.__ _ _ _

____Clint noticed him pausing, and then _I still owe you dinner._ Then, _Just be a good sport.__ _ _ _

____Clint frowned and sent back a row of question marks. But Steve was silent. Okay._ _ _ _

____Huh._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Clint heard the small buzzer go off, indicating that the camera sensors picked up movement outside, turning on the floodlights. He checked the camera feed and muttered “Fuck” when he saw Bucky waiting outside, clasping a pizza box and looking slightly uncomfortable. He was decked out in a leather jacket, despite that the blazing hot day cooled down to a humid night. His hair was down, dusting his shoulders, and it shone under the lights. Clint buzzed him inside, and he waited for him to come around the corner and into the corridor. Bucky strode in long, easy strides up to the booth, with its durable safety glass walls, and he smirked down at Clint, who sat watching him with his feet up on the desk, ankles crossed._ _ _ _

____“State your business?”_ _ _ _

____“Pizza delivery. Courtesy of one Steven G. Rogers. He gives his apologies. Nothing says ‘I’m sorry’ like extra meat, I guess. I mean, if you like that sort of thing.” Bucky’s tone was conciliatory, like he wasn’t judging Clint for his love of animal flesh._ _ _ _

____“What’s Steve sorry for?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know. Brunch?”_ _ _ _

____Clint chuckled humorlessly and swung his feet to the floor. He opened the door to the booth and beckoned Bucky inside. He noticed Bucky was carrying a brown paper bag under his arm. “Brunch was a goddamned stupid idea.”_ _ _ _

____“He meant well.” Clint nodded for Bucky to sit down, and Bucky handed him the pizza box before he opened up the bag, and-_ _ _ _

____“Aw, blood, no!” Clint tsked, rolling his eyes. “Why?”_ _ _ _

____“Is it really gonna creep you out that much?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s just… fuck. No.” Clint’s stomach growled up at him, the pizza smelled amazing, and he didn’t even feel as annoyed as he let on when Bucky pulled out the blood bag. Then, he did something really cool and handed Clint a can of Starbucks double shot espresso._ _ _ _

____“Oh.”_ _ _ _

____“Steve said you like these.”_ _ _ _

____“I live on ‘em.”_ _ _ _

____“I actually like them, too. It’s just…” he shrugged at Clint and held up the blood bag. “Gotta eat sometime, y’know?”_ _ _ _

____“I know that.” Clint opened the box and lifted out a hefty slice, folded it, and crammed a third of it into his mouth at once. He moaned in pleasure._ _ _ _

____“Man, I’m jealous,” Bucky admitted._ _ _ _

____“Seri’ushler?” Clint mumbled through a mouthful._ _ _ _

____“Yeah. C’mon. I miss food. My mom’s cooking. Cafes. Bistros. Camping trips with my sisters.”_ _ _ _

____That gave Clint pause. “You have sisters?”_ _ _ _

____“Had. I was the oldest.” Pain flickered over Bucky’s features for a moment, but then he chased it away with a polite smile._ _ _ _

____“Oh.”_ _ _ _

____“Been alive for a long time.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Me too, but… probably not as long as you.”_ _ _ _

____“You born or made?”_ _ _ _

____“Me? Made. Me and my brother Barney. Happened on the same night.”_ _ _ _

____“He’s still around, though, right?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know. I mean, if I outlive him, it’s not because of… y’know.” Clint scooped up some stray bits of sausage and bacon from the box and popped them into his mouth. “Barney lives rough. Always has. He’s a maverick.”_ _ _ _

____“Shit. I’m sorry.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey. Don’t pity him, or me, okay pal? It is what it is. You make choices.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky shrugged. “Stevie didn’t. And I know he’s glad to be back in the pack, now. It was hard on him. I knew that when I met him. He’s not meant to be out on his own.”_ _ _ _

____“Damn right, he’s not,” Clint agreed._ _ _ _

____“Has he always been so stubborn?”_ _ _ _

____“Buddy, you don’t know that _half_ of it. Shit. I mean, I’m the super in our building, right? I remember when I used to cover for him. He’d go days sometimes, out in the open during his shifts. Sometimes, he’d end up too far from home, without anyone to bring him back. You need a pack. You need to have someone to anchor you, y’know? Someone to watch your back when you shift, or during the full moon when the urges hit the strongest. I used to go into his apartment and clean out his fridge and check his mail when I noticed him gone for what felt like too long.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky’s eyes softened. “That was nice, Clint.”_ _ _ _

____“I had to look out for him. Wasn’t supposed to, but fuck that.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, no shit,” Bucky agreed. “There’s rules, but sometimes, fuck rules.” Bucky emptied his blood into a metal thermos, stuck a green plastic straw into the top, and sipped it. Clint tried to ignore the sight of the empty plastic sleeve lying in the trash, its tubing protruding from the rest of the rubbish._ _ _ _

____“What rules do _you_ have to follow? No wearing pink on any day but Wednesday?”_ _ _ _

____“Get outta here with that shit, Barton.” Bucky sucked his teeth and stirred the blood with the straw, which _totally_ squicked Clint out, but he knew better than to say anything. “We have rules. The Elders run things. If they didn’t, well.” Bucky’s tone suggested a dire alternative. “Stevie saved my life.”_ _ _ _

____Clint paused mid-bite. He stared in disbelief._ _ _ _

____“Steve. What’d he save you from?”_ _ _ _

____“From being a one-man blood supply for Piercetech’s gene experiments.”_ _ _ _

____Clint growled, and he felt his hackles go up. “What. The _fuck_.”_ _ _ _

____“They had me for weeks.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Bucky._ Fuck. That’s… that’s fucked up.”_ _ _ _

____“Stevie got loose first. Don’t ask me how. He was skinny as a rail. They’d just harvested bone from his foot, I know he doesn’t like to talk about it-”_ _ _ _

____“That’s why he was walking with a limp for a while,” Clint muttered._ _ _ _

____“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”_ _ _ _

____“Not that part.”_ _ _ _

____“Probably a few other parts he left out, then. Pierce… he was a twat waffle. A real douche. And he did things to me, and to Stevie.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky’s eyes were haunted. He stared down at his own clenched fist, and a vein kept popping in and out of his jaw as he processed the memories. Clint itched to reach for him, but he shoved the urge down. Protectiveness still bloomed in his chest._ _ _ _

____“You were there the night we sprung him. I remember that. Fuck… everything’s a blur.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s okay if you wanna forget it. I can’t block it out.”_ _ _ _

____“Can we talk about something else? Anything else. Here, drink your blood, you’re looking a little peaked.”_ _ _ _

____They ate and chatted for a while, until Clint chased Bucky out of his booth. Clint scarfed down the pizza and gradually felt the tension unknot itself from his shoulders. Bucky began to look less rattled and more relaxed once he finished his thermos, and his skin was soon flush with healthy color. Even his _scent_ was different. “Pepper’s coming and I’ve gotta look like I’m working, Bucky, sheesh. Must be nice to just party all night long.”_ _ _ _

____“Later, Princess.”_ _ _ _

____“Later, Boyfriend Jeans.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky flipped him off before he left, but he was grinning._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Nat stopped by Steve’s apartment with bagels this time. “Okay. What’s going on with Clint? He hasn’t messaged me in a while.”_ _ _ _

____“He’s been working.” That was Sam, sitting in Steve’s office chair and playing Overwatch. “Gotta let a man live his life once in a while, Natasha.”_ _ _ _

____“Says who?”_ _ _ _

____“He unclogged my sink a while back. I had him over for brunch. And it didn’t go well.”_ _ _ _

____“Clint’s not the brunchiest person,” Nat agreed._ _ _ _

____“Oh, it’s not just that,” Sam sang. “Your boy made Steve’s man leave in a snit.” And from Sam’s tone, he was _delighted_._ _ _ _

____“Wilson. Be nice.”_ _ _ _

____“Uh-uh.”_ _ _ _

____“Hmmmmm. Okay.” Natasha got out a plate and began slicing bagels. Steve fed them into the toaster oven and the kitchen filled with the aroma of garlic._ _ _ _

____“I just figured they might have a little something in common,” Steve sighed. “Boy, was that a bad idea.”_ _ _ _

____“Terrible,” Sam agreed as his player rushed across the landscape and fired several blinding rounds. His upper body jerked with each shot as he worked the controller._ _ _ _

____“He’s interested.”_ _ _ _

____“Who’s interested?” Steve asked._ _ _ _

____“Clint. He’s being a dumbass and won’t admit it, but his musk was up when Bucky was flirting with him at Rapture.”_ _ _ _

____“Bucky was _flirting_ with Clint?” Steve’s voice sounded funny, making Sam crane his neck around from his game._ _ _ _

____“What’s the big deal if he was, Steve?”_ _ _ _

____“I mean… it’s fine. It’s perfectly fine.” Steve was blushing furiously and folded his arms across his chest. “They’re adults. They’re both single. It’s fine.”_ _ _ _

____“Is it?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s _fine_ , Natasha. What do you want on your bagel?” Steve rushed to the fridge and rummaged around in it. “I’ve got butter, I’ve got schmear, I’ve got some chicken I could cut up with mayo-”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, Steve. They’re. Both. _Single._ ” Sam practically growled that last point, driving it home._ _ _ _

____“I mean. They are.” Steve assembled other items on the counter for lunch. “It’s fine.”_ _ _ _

____Sam turned back from his game, but his shoulders were hunched. Natasha cocked her eyebrow and hummed._ _ _ _

____Steve looked like a man who was having every second thought in the world._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Bucky got Clint’s number from Natasha, who stopped by the bar for his strawberry lemonade martini, and he began texting him dumb memes. Clint countered with Youtube videos of bad makeup tutorials and Twilight GIFs. They kept trolling each other into the wee hours of the night. Bucky realized that on the nights where he didn’t hear from Clint, he was… out._ _ _ _

____And of course he couldn’t ask Nat for his whereabouts, because, yeah, they were all out and about. Pack synchrony, and all that. Bucky just hoped they were all safe._ _ _ _

____Bucky stopped pacing his apartment when he heard the low buzz on his phone. He swiped the screen and let out a bark of laughter when he saw the Mean Girls GIF of Regina George saying “So you do. You think you’re _really pretty._ ”_ _ _ _

____“Punk,” he muttered, but Bucky kept snickering over it for the rest of the night._ _ _ _

____At least Barton was safe._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Somewhat._ _ _ _

____Clint woke up in the bushes at Central Park, naked as the day he was born. He managed to fish a few pages of a discarded newspaper from the trash and wrap them around his hips once he processed that he was out in the open, in broad daylight._ _ _ _

____“Fuck,” he muttered._ _ _ _

____“Wild night, pal?” An older homeless man drinking a bottle of Power-Ade and wearing a knit cap with ear flaps grinned up at him from where he sat._ _ _ _

____“Wish I knew, buddy.”_ _ _ _

____“Wild night,” the guy decided, nodding. “You gonna find your way home all right?”_ _ _ _

____“Where am I?”_ _ _ _

____“Central Park.”_ _ _ _

____“Then, yeah.”_ _ _ _

____“Bet you don’t have five bucks on you?”_ _ _ _

____“What do _you_ think?”_ _ _ _

____The guy looked nonplussed, shrugging, and he went back to his breakfast. Clint managed to duck into a back alley, where he found a clothesline strung between the buildings. He stole a pair of boxers and hopped into them before he jogged home, barefoot and shivering. This was New York, though; he wasn’t the weirdest thing anybody saw by _far_. He earned himself a hail of car horns honking and a few catcalls from the commuters in the street. Things could definitely be worse._ _ _ _

____Clint ran up the fire escape and climbed in through his kitchen window again. He was about to grab the carton of milk from the fridge until he saw a note from Nat written in her girlish script._ _ _ _

_____I left you breakfast. And Bucky left me a bunch of texts last night. Call him so he doesn’t freak out._ _ _ _ _

____“O. Kay.” That. Clint wasn’t expecting that._ _ _ _

____But he found the small box of donuts on the counter and picked out his favorite, a French cruller dripping with glaze. Clint wolfed down half of it while he started a pot of coffee one-handed, dropping crumbs and grounds everywhere. Clint searched around for his phone and almost regretted that he didn’t have roommates; at least when you lived with someone, you could ask them “Call my phone,” and you would find it ringing from under the couch cushions or wherever else you left it. But it wasn’t worth it to have the headache of another human being that would drink all the damned milk without buying more just to find his phone. Nope._ _ _ _

____And a roommate would have to be able to deal with the whole “I shift into a feral, nocturnal creature on random nights of the month and occasionally end up bleeding on the carpet.” From past experience Clint knew that 1) they usually weren’t okay with that, and 2) at least peroxide got that out. Clint finally found his phone halfway under the bed; he must have dropped it before he shifted._ _ _ _

____Nat was right. There were the texts._ _ _ _

____Clint huffed at the last of his messages to Bucky. Another Twilight meme. He’d also found a photo filter, snuck a photo of Bucky at Rapture, and sent him back an image of him with _sparkles_ and a flower crown. Bucky replied with several middle finger emojis, and that must have been the last thing Clint read before he changed, because the rest of his reply was a vague, long keyboard smash and Bucky’s _Clint? CLINT?__ _ _ _

____“Shit,” Clint muttered as he thumbed through the rest._ _ _ _

_____Hey. Clint. This isn’t funny._ _ _ _ _

_____Buddy._ _ _ _ _

_____CLINT._ _ _ _ _

_____Come on. Okay the last message was funny, I’ll admit it, but say something._ _ _ _ _

_____PLEASE._ _ _ _ _

_____Clint. You’re worrying me, now. I haven’t heard from Steve tonight, either. Or Nat. Let me know you’re okay._ _ _ _ _

____“I’m fine,” Clint murmured as he kept reading. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Buckaroo.”_ _ _ _

_____I know you probably do this all the time. I just don’t want anything to happen to you. Even if you ARE an asshole._ _ _ _ _

_____Talk to me._ _ _ _ _

_____Please?_ _ _ _ _

_____Clint?_ _ _ _ _

____“Awwww.”_ _ _ _

____Clint was clammy, dirty and cold, and he needed his coffee pretty bad, but he decided to let Bucky off the hook._ _ _ _

_____Awwww. Were you worried, woogums?_ _ _ _ _

____Despite how early it was in the morning, and there was absolutely no reason for him to be up that early, Bucky’s reply was immediate._ _ _ _

_____Motherfucker. ASSHOLE. I swear to God, you’re even worse than Stevie!_ _ _ _ _

____Clint finished his donut and decided his fingers were too sticky to keep texting. He hit the “Call” button and rang him, knowing that he probably wasn’t even wide-_ _ _ _

____“Barton?!?!”_ _ _ _

____awake yet._ _ _ _

____“What are you even doing up?”_ _ _ _

____“I couldn’t sleep yet. Fuck. Just… don’t do that again.”_ _ _ _

____“What? Shift?”_ _ _ _

____“You know what I mean. You fucking disappeared without warning. Your text just got all cut off, and I haven’t been able to find you, or Steve, or Nat, or even Sam for the past seventy-two hours.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh. Uh.” Clint looked at the clock, at his phone, then at the calendar on the fridge. “I guess that could be a little weird, then.”_ _ _ _

____“A little weird.”_ _ _ _

____On the other end of the line, Bucky was scrubbing his palm down his face in frustration._ _ _ _

____“Look. Sometimes, I black out between shifts. You know how it is. We aren’t morning people, pal. I lose track of time. Sometimes, the wolf just takes over. I get a little moon drunk. Or I just… I don’t wanna go back to baseline. It feels good, y’know? I like changing, because I don’t-”_ _ _ _

____Clint stopped himself._ _ _ _

____“Because you don’t, what?”_ _ _ _

____Bucky’s voice softened, losing its edge of hysteria._ _ _ _

____“I don’t hafta be _me_. Look, you don’t get it. Just… fuck it. I’m home, okay? Don’t fret. Go. Check on Rogers, or whoever.”_ _ _ _

____“Clint-”_ _ _ _

____“Bye.”_ _ _ _

____Clint tossed the phone into his underwear drawer, so he could avoid any more text notifications and resist the urge to call him back, because, yeah. This. This was weird._ _ _ _

____Bucky Barnes wasn’t _concerned_ about Clint. No way. Not in a million fucking years._ _ _ _

____Just a thought of it made a hot flush run all over Clint’s body, all the way up to his ears._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Bucky stared at his phone for a long moment. “What the FUCK, Clint.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Bucky gave him space for about three days. Clint was torn between relief and disappointment. Then, Nat called him out of the blue._ _ _ _

____“Bucky’s wondering if he upset you.”_ _ _ _

____“Not anymore than usual,” Clint told her, shrugging as he took his Panda Express containers out of the bag._ _ _ _

____“Stop that. He means well.”_ _ _ _

____“So does every other asshole on the planet. ‘He means well.’ Like that makes me want to let him keep driving me crazy. Why do people always say that? ‘He means well’ like that just excuses them being annoying. Like, I’m in your space, but I mean well. You wanna be alone, but I mean well. You’re busy, you didn’t ask for this bullshit that I’m forcing down your throat, but hey, I MEAN WELL.”_ _ _ _

____Nat’s husky laugh almost sounded sympathetic. Almost._ _ _ _

____“I can’t help what I am.”_ _ _ _

____“No, you can’t. And neither can Bucky.”_ _ _ _

____“What? He’s a vampire.”_ _ _ _

____“A vampire with attachment issues. He looks young, but he’s lived long enough to lose everyone he loves.”_ _ _ _

____“Pfffft… big whoop. Who hasn’t?”_ _ _ _

____“Be nice.”_ _ _ _

____“No. He can find someone on Tinder who’s a night owl. It isn’t hard.”_ _ _ _

____“Too many freaks on Tinder,” Nat countered._ _ _ _

____Well. She wasn’t wrong._ _ _ _

____“Tell him he doesn’t have to put out an APB on me every time I go MIA for longer than five minutes.”_ _ _ _

____“Tell him yourself. Better yet, prove it. And, hey. He isn’t the only one who worries about you, y’know? Sometimes, I can feel you. Sometimes, I can’t. You just check out.”_ _ _ _

____“Nat. Not _you_ , too.” Clint made a disgusted sound. “I’m fine.”_ _ _ _

____“Bucky’s nice. You’d figure this out if you gave him a chance.”_ _ _ _

____“Know what else people always tell me is nice? Pumpkin spice lattes. Still can’t stand those. Or candles. Or HGTV.”_ _ _ _

____“You lie. Pumpkin spice is _heavenly_. You hush your lying mouth right now.”_ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____And the thing was, Bucky himself… he just checked in once in a while._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t terrible._ _ _ _

____They still trolled each other via texts. Usually late at night. Clint developed a new habit of reminding him, _The moon’s waxing over the next coupla days. I might be out for a bit. Don’t have a cow about it, ‘kay?__ _ _ _

____When Bucky sent back, _I’ll be sitting here twiddling my thumbs, waiting for your return with bated breath. Sheesh, Barton, don’t flatter yourself,_ well. Clint bit back a laugh. He could be funny, Clint would give him that._ _ _ _

____An Instacart order landed on his doorstep a couple of days later, right after he got home from his shift at SI. All the essentials. Milk, eggs, coffee. LOTS of meat. Some everything bagels. A couple of boxes of Cap’n Crunch. Clint took a picture of it and shot it to Bucky with a question mark._ _ _ _

_____Thought that might cover the basics. Just in case you were feeling too rough to go shopping._ _ _ _ _

____“Aw, Bucky, no, you little shit,” Clint muttered. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He was making it awfully hard for Clint to ignore him._ _ _ _

____Too bad Clint wasn’t going to have the chance to thank him in person yet._ _ _ _

____Not for a while._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____“Hey. Steve. Have you seen this latest piece that just came in on the wire?”_ _ _ _

____“Reuters?”_ _ _ _

____“No. It’s local.” Peter pulled it up for Steve on his feed before Steve could walk past his cubicle. Steve hung over his desk and squinted at the article, adjusting his bifocals._ _ _ _

____“What the hell…?”_ _ _ _

____“Missing person. Fifth in the past month. It’s happening again.”_ _ _ _

____They skimmed the piece together, and Steve felt his skin begin to crawl. “Male. Mid-twenties to early thirties.”_ _ _ _

____“Rumored to be lycans. Neighbors reported them missing during the-”_ _ _ _

____“-full moon.”_ _ _ _

____Peter turned to Steve with a measured look. “It could be something random. Somebody trying to scare people. Maybe a prank?”_ _ _ _

____“Until the missing persons become _bodies_.”_ _ _ _

____“Man, I’m gonna start remembering to lock my windows at night.”_ _ _ _

____“You should, anyway.”_ _ _ _

____“Pssshhh… whatever. I’m not scared of a vamp or a lycan coming in through my window. I’m more worried about the Kirby salesmen coming to the front door half the time offering me a ‘free’ carpet cleaning or the teenagers trying to sell me magazine subscriptions for points.”_ _ _ _

____Steve didn’t laugh. This was too familiar. Too fresh._ _ _ _

____“Piercetech closed its doors,” Peter reasoned as he sipped his coffee and munched on a handful of trail mix. He offered Steve some, but he shook his head. Then, he pulled out a half-empty pouch of jerky instead, and Steve indulged, needing a boost._ _ _ _

____“We put ‘em out of commission.”_ _ _ _

____“What do you mean, ‘we’?”_ _ _ _

____“Uh. I mean, most of their staff moved on. And Pierce went to jail.”_ _ _ _

____“Weird. Hey. Just, stay safe, okay? If anything happens to you, people will start expecting me to do real _work_. We can’t have that.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Once the article hit the morning headlines, the lycan community was on high alert. The supermarkets filled with families buying supplies to go into lockdown. The cart collectors couldn’t keep the racks filled fast enough. By noon, the meat section was cleaned out, yawningly empty._ _ _ _

____Ororo contacted Logan that night. “Hullo, Logan.”_ _ _ _

____“Hey, ‘Ro. What’s shakin’, sweetheart?”_ _ _ _

____“Did you read the news?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s all over CNN.”_ _ _ _

____“We made national news again.” Ororo sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Keep an eye on your people. Let me know if you need Tony to stop by and upgrade your cameras again.”_ _ _ _

____“It ain’t just my people you need ta be concerned about, darlin’. Watch yer coven. The same folks that are interested in people like me are just as antsy to get their hands on the likes of you. Where’s Bucky?”_ _ _ _

____“Working tonight, thankfully.”_ _ _ _

____“Good. Maybe don’t let him go home alone for a while.”_ _ _ _

____“T’Challa and I are going to talk to him about that. He can stay in our guest house, if he’s open to it.”_ _ _ _

____“Safety in numbers,” Logan agreed. “That’s smart.”_ _ _ _

____“Take your own advice. Stay close to home for a while, if you can.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled, but his tone was fond._ _ _ _

____“I mean it. Behave, you.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s asking a lot, doll.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re an alpha of your pack, now. You need to set a good example.”_ _ _ _

____Logan let out a bark of laughter. “You’d think that, wouldn’tcha?” But suddenly, he felt a strange chill shiver through him. Logan grunted in annoyance, before a flash of chaotic images flashed in his head, followed by a rush of tingling panic._ _ _ _

____“Logan? What’s wrong?”_ _ _ _

____“EEEEAAARRRGGGGHHHHH…!”_ _ _ _

____“LOGAN! LOGAN!? Talk to me. What’s happening?”_ _ _ _

____“Fuck…” Logan was on the floor. The waves of pain staggered him, and he’d knocked his beer off his desk where it was currently wetting his knees. He was seeing spots and tasting metal. “God, ‘Ro… something’s wrong.”_ _ _ _

____“Tell me!”_ _ _ _

____“Somebody took one of mine. I can _feel _it.”___ _ _ _

______“Let me call Stark. And I need to shut down Rapture tonight.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m closing up fer regular business, but anyone who needs to hunker down here at Harry’s for shelter can come.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Be careful, Logan. Keep in touch.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______It was times like these that Clint wished he’d listened to Nat when she told him that he needed a grounding mate. Sure, he’d laughed it off before, but now, well._ _ _ _ _ _

______She had a point._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint felt zip ties digging into his wrists and ankles, and his arms burned. Dark. The room was dark. He sensed the cold of concrete and steel around him and heard the faint hum of a fluorescent light, even though it was in the next room and dim. This was the downfall of living alone, even though Clint was usually - _usually_ \- pretty good at taking care of himself. Sort of._ _ _ _ _ _

______Okay. Maybe this looked bad._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wake up. Rise and shine, bright eyes. Hey, there.” The cheerfulness in the tone was brittle, and the voice was unfamiliar. “You’re a big one. Nice. We’re gonna have fun with you, buddy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Feels like m’naked,” Clint mumbled. “If I find out I’m naked, it’s all over for you, asshole.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re in no position to make threats, boy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_______Boy._ Okay. That was just fucking _rude__ _ _ _ _ _

______He catalogued his body’s complaints. Headache. Soreness around his head. A burning pain in his shoulder where his skin had been pierced. An injection, maybe. His knees and feet were all scraped up, so chances were all this happened while he’d shifted. Maybe in full-wolf mode. But these guys probably weren’t from Animal Control._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shouldn’t have wandered so far from home, Fido.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Okay. Keep talking, buddy._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I go where I want.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sure, you do. All you lycan scum do. And the rest of us pay for it. I’ve really got a problem with that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The rest of you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Baseline humans. Decent, hardworking people. People who want to raise their families and walk in daylight without worrying about the things that go bump in the night. Predators like you. Or vampires, the veritable _leeches_ of our society. And you’re going to help me eradicate it so I can protect the community. And my constituents.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Ah, fuck._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re a fucking politician?” Clint laughed through bleeding, cracked lips. The light snapped on above his head but didn’t illuminate the whole room, only throwing stark, ugly yellow light over his bruised flesh and glare into his sensitive eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Maybe you’ve seen my billboards?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That mayor. Graydon Creed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ve sat on your face a few times, bub.” Clint meant the benches at the bus stops. But it was worth it to get that sneer. Not so much for the answering crack of knuckles across his jaw when the sonofabitch backhanded him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re funny.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ready for the first round, Mr. Creed?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not yet. Let’s give him a minute to adjust.” Which was fine with Clint. “You see, I remember you. You ran with my father’s pack. He’s gone. I have no loyalty to his memory. And since his lycan genes skipped over me, well. He thought I was weak. Soft. Not worth his time. I ended up a maverick from a pack that I never should have been born into in the first place.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I dunno. You look like him a little. Maybe around the nose. Maybe the unibrow.” Definitely the flinty, narrow gray eyes and muttonchop sideburns, but Victor - Clint realized now, this was _Victor’s_ son - had been larger than life. Blond and striking, his only saving grace because the guy had been a complete asshole. _ _ _ _ _ _

______“Dr. Essex was kind enough to leave behind journals of his work. We also managed to salvage some of Dr. McCoy’s serum that he was working on. The one that suppressed the lycan gene?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint’s blood ran cold. He jerked in his bonds, making the chair he was tied to scrape along the floor, until Graydon struck him again. Blood pooled at his nose and dripped into his chest and into his lap. Clint gradually realized that he was inside what looked like an infirmary, not just a cell. There was a metal procedure table, steel cabinets, a bovie machine, an infrared laser, and metal baskets of surgical instruments._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I wish my father could have benefitted from that serum. My life would have been different. My childhood certainly would have been happier.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Crybaby,” Clint taunted. “Y’know, I think your dad was right. You’re fucking soft, and you whine too much. A happy childhood is overrated. You probably graduated from high school. Went to your prom. You got to go to college, right? Mommy probably still paid your tuition? And you didn’t shift at night? What the fuck is your problem?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Scum like you are my problem,” Graydon told him simply. “Letting you run loose won’t get me re-elected or help me in my eventual bid for governor.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So, what? How do you think you’re going to get lycans to take this serum?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I didn’t get this far without being resourceful. Or creative.” Then he laughed. “But wouldn’t you like to know?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Oh, would Clint ever._ _ _ _ _ _

______“The thing is, we need more data. And more volunteers.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint struggled in his seat, feeling a growl rise up in his throat. Graydon hit him again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Which means we need more genetic material. Be a good boy and hold still.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint felt the prick of the needle in his shoulder again. The room swam around him before he felt himself pulled under into darkness._ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Natasha woke up at Sharon’s apartment, hazy and groggy and fully aware that something was wrong. She felt the restraint on her wrist and knew that her best friend - her grounding mate - tied her down during this shift, because of the kidnappings. She turned and saw Sharon standing in the doorway, holding a plate of breakfast._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey. Has Clint called?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She shook her head sadly and set the plate on the nightstand. “No. I’m sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Damn it. Damn it, damn it!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey. Settle down. It’s okay. We’ll check his apartment.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He would have texted me. Called me. This isn’t like him. I can feel that something’s wrong.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What did you make?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A turkey omelet and some fruit. And some coffee with that vanilla caramel creamer you like.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Awwww.” Nat smiled despite herself, and Sharon kissed her cheek as she undid the restraints. Sharon also handed her a soft t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Natasha dressed and ate while Sharon found Natasha’s phone, already charged._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Steve and Sam have checked in. They’re fine, but Steve’s losing his shit.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Of course he is.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Also, who’s this Bucky person?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ooh. I forgot about Bucky. Shoot. He’s going to be worried. This is bad. This is _so bad_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is he from a different pack?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sort of.” Natasha hit call on his number after reading the string of messages explaining that he couldn’t get Clint to call him back, and that he just “had a bad feeling.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He didn’t know that _half_ of it. As the “pack mind” impressions hit Natasha through their link, including waves of pain, cold and fear, she couldn’t blame Bucky for feeling overprotective, this time._ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Logan looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept for a few days. Steve and Sam huddled in Harry’s Hideaway, in the back room, where they watched the security feed from a few nights ago. “Barton wasn’t here and wasn’t at Rapture. But, we did notice something odd.” Logan toggled through the footage captures and pointed to a few men in the background. “Those aren’t regulars. Too dressed up for the crowd that usually shows up here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve and Sam watched the footage. “Why do they look familiar?” Steve wondered. “Wait. Sam, I think they worked at Piercetech.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He remembered vague impressions of the guards in the complex. He shivered at the memory of the cattle prod._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ororo noticed these guys at Rapture, too, last week while she was going through her feeds. And Pepper called and told me one of ‘em dropped off a package at Stark Industries, which wouldn’t surprise anybody, except it was at _night._ Not yer usual middle of the afternoon, knock, drop and run from the UPS or FedEx guy. Barton signed for it at the security booth.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because they wanted to get a look at him,” Sam reasoned._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Someone knew he was a lycan. It was an inside job,” Steve added._ _ _ _ _ _

______“None of us are safe, Steve.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Fuck that shit,” Logan interrupted. “I’m gonna fix this. This is my pack. And we’re gonna find Barton, come hell or high water.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“How?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’re gonna track him, and we’re gonna have a little help.” Logan went to the closet. “Close that door.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve frowned, but he got up and obeyed while Logan rummaged inside and pulled out a small, metal box._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We took this before the cops shut down Piercetech’s labs. They cleaned everything out, but we managed to salvage this.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What is it?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Logan opened it, revealing an array of bottles and syringes. “Wolf juice. You remember this stuff, Rogers? It boosted your lycan gene. Nice shot of hormones and adrenaline. Remember how it felt?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It put some hair on his chest,” Sam joked, even though he was terrified._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Smart ass,” Steve accused. “I wasn’t myself when I took it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nope. But it took who you were and amplified it about fifty times. And that’s the advantage we need to find Barton. We can track him.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sometimes, I still feel impressions from him, I see images,” Steve told Logan._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s not enough. We can’t sift through things he saw as a wolf and try to make sense of it now. But we can smell him out. The three of us.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam paled. Steve looked sick._ _ _ _ _ _

______“C’mon. Put on yer big boy pants,” Logan told them. “Ro said she’s on board. So’s Tony.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She doesn’t have to take the serum.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. But she’s good at getting inside where she ain’t supposed ta be.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“When are we doing this?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“At sundown, Rogers. When did ya think?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______“I’m putting you in charge of the club while I’m gone.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Like hell you are. Put Guido and Kitty in charge. I’m coming with you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bucky-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ororo, I’m coming with you. I can’t just stay here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know you’re worried about Clint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Worried doesn’t just begin to describe it. If he’s missing - if it has anything to do with Piercetech, then you need my help. _Clint_ needs my help.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re emotionally compromised, Bucky. You’ll make mistakes.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The only mistake will be leaving me behind. I need to do this. I would do it for Steve, if he was the one missing. Remember my debt?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Ororo sighed in exasperation. “Steve released you from it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It still extends to the rest of his pack.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s not how it works. I know you mean well, Bucky, but-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But nothing. I’m going. Which car are we going to take?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Ororo snorted. “Car?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Natasha brought Clint’s old, soft, faded Under Armour sweatshirt over to Harry’s Hideaway and gave it to Steve. “Get a good whiff of it. Take your time, guys.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve, Logan and Sam took turns smelling it, rolling it around on their palates. _Clint._ There it was, the familiar musk. Nonthreatening. A friend. Familiar. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Family._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay. Let’s do this,” Steve muttered. He took off his shirt and nodded to Logan. “Give it to me, already.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Logan drew up the liquid into the syringe and grasped Steve’s bony upper arm firmly before he injected it right into his muscle. Steve hissed in pain. Sam was next. He grunted slightly as it entered his system._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Whoa…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hits you hard right away,” Steve remarked, and a low growl escaped him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do mine,” Logan told Nat. “There’s one more dose left.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Give it to me, then.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. Yer goin’ with ‘Ro, and I dont need ya compromised. You two will take point.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Nat pouted, but she watched Logan shuck his shirt and she drew up the next dose, tapping out the bubbles. She noticed the difference moments after she pushed the medicine into his system._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Fuck… burns…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Told you,” Steve grunted. He was breathing faster, and he doubled over, gripping the edge of the desk. “Fuck… too hot... “_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam was already sweating and removing the rest of his clothes. Natasha backed up and sensed the change in the room. The rising musk. The way their bodies seemed to give off ripples of heat. And the way they began to shift, more quickly than ever. Sam’s eyes glowed amber; Steve’s and Logan’s characteristic blue shifted to silver in the darkness. Tufts and spikes of hair sprouted and erupted from their flesh, and each of them grew bigger, muscles expanding and knotting as their bones cracked apart and re-knitted together in new configurations._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Right. I’m going with Ororo.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The room was filled with scattered clothes and reeking with musk when they finally left. Natasha, Ororo and Bucky followed them into the darkness, blazing down the road after them on the Starktech motorcycles as they caught Clint’s scent._ _ _ _ _ _

______Soon._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Soon. We’ll find him. We’ll bring him home,_ Logan growled into their groupthink psychic link. That was the beauty of running with the pack. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky felt the adrenaline of the air rushing past them, pushing against his flesh and the thundering of the bike’s engine between his legs. If he wasn’t terrified for Clint’s safety, he’d actually be _enjoying_ this. He gunned the engine to keep up with Ororo, who nodded to him behind her helmet, and the two of them kept the wolves ahead of them within their sights as they ran down the road at full gallop. They were bigger, fiercer than Bucky was used to seeing any of them, muscles bunching and stretching, obsidian claws glittering in the darkness. _ _ _ _ _ _

______They ran off the road, down into the brush, and Ororo and Bucky rode over the trail they blazed, ducking low branches and minding the cycles’ holographic displays that mapped out the landscape on the monitor, arraying it across the windshields. Tony’s voice sounded sharp in their ear whigs._ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s not much out here. According to the GPS, there’s an old pharmaceutical company’s warehouse that they closed down when they outsourced it overseas.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Then why are there cars parked out front?” Bucky countered. A black Lincoln Navigator sat beside a couple of pickup trucks; the Lincoln’s back window was custom painted with script lettering, “Re-Elect Graydon Creed for Mayor.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What business would the mayor have here?” Ororo wondered. “And this late at night?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky told her. “They have Clint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Logan, Steve and Sam were in their element, tearing through the brush, blood pumping, breathing in the scents around them. They zeroed in on Clint’s scent, growling, whining and yipping as they drew closer to the warehouse. They slowed and slunk around the perimeter, picking up tracks in the gravel. Tire treads, then shoe prints._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Not work boots_ , Logan told them._ _ _ _ _ _

_______I found blood_ , Sam replied through their link. Bucky and Ororo caught up to them and parked just beyond the security fence. She caught sight of the camera and reached up, attaching a small device that sparked as soon as it made contact. The small light on the side flickered briefly, then died._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Scrambler,” Ororo told Bucky as they parked their bikes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nice.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s a loading dock on the west side of the building,” Tony told them. “Two more security cameras. I can scramble their feed remotely for a few minutes if that’s how you want to get in. No warm bodies until you hit the basement.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s a basement?” Bucky asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Uh-huh. Once you get past the assembly floor and conveyors, there’s a stairwell in the back.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good enough for me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Catch up to them,” Ororo hissed. “Don’t leave it up to them to transition, they need to remain in this form to find Clint. We need to be their hands.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky obeyed, and they sprinted up the ramp of the loading dock. Ororo laid another scrambler on the faceplate of the security badge reader, disabling it so they could open the door. She waved to the wolves, and they stopped scratching at the side door for entry and followed Ororo and Bucky inside._ _ _ _ _ _

______They watched Steve’s ears prick up and heard him growl, changing pitch on a guttural, bone-chilling scale as they traversed the loading dock and entered the assembly floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Blood,” Bucky murmured as he, too, smelled it. He saw a thin, dried streak of it where something skidded through it, dragging it over a thick, vinyl safety mat on the floor. Then, they found thin, blood-clumped spikes of fur. Nausea coiled in Bucky’s gut, and he tasted bile. “Clint,” he whispered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Keep it together,” Ororo scolded, but she reached out and gave his wrist a brief squeeze._ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______On the metal procedure table, Clint twitched._ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s trying to shake it off.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Lycan genes. Makes ‘em hard to sedate. Might need to give that first shot a boost.” Clint’s blood flooded deep scarlet through the tubing as they collected the first pint. “He’s gonna fight us. Knew he was a stubborn fucker.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Get what we need. We can lock him up, keep him here a day or two, and then drain him again.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nobody can regenerate that much blood-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wanna bet?” Then, “I’d know. My father came home from hunting and so many scrapes looking like a bloody horror every week. It scarred me. But he was always fresh as a goddamned daisy the next day.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Clint heard them subconsciously. Voices were a little muted, but he could hear ‘em._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then, he felt his pack._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Here. Outside._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve!_ _ _ _ _ _

_______Finding you. Getting you out._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______That was Logan, authoritative and pissed off._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Bucky’s here. Worried._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______Well, _fuck_._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why is he still fidgeting?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Give him another shot!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. Just leave him. It’s fine. He’s tied down.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you hear something?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Graydon’s intern paused in sealing the first collection bag. That sound. Something scratching along the tile out in the hallway._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No one knows we’re he-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The door to the suite banged open, and three wolves sprang inside, barking and growling, jaws slavering as they sized up the room’s occupants. Logan’s muzzle was scrunched back, nostrils flaring, and eyes gleaming with fury in the room’s scant light._ _ _ _ _ _

______Four men. Two of them armed._ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve, impulsive as usual, went for the procedure table first, leaping up and gnawing at the restraints and knocking aside one of the unarmed men. The intern dropped the blood bag from trembling fingers and backed himself into a corner. “ShitshitshitSHIT they’re HUGE!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hold on,” Graydon pronounced. The room was about ten by sixteen, with only a tiny observation window in the front wall. No one from outside the complex would hear a gunshot, or several. He cocked the gun at Clint’s head. “You’re human enough to know what happens if I pull this trigger. Lycan brains everywhere, furry scum.” He chuckled. “Yeah, bare those teeth at me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve growled, and he edged back a few millimeters. Graydon ground the tip of the gun into the flesh at Clint’s temple. Clint looked pale and clammy from blood loss, and his body was bruised and scraped everywhere. Blood dripped from his nose and another wound on his scalp._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Fuck that._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______Logan shifted to his transitional form. The guard standing closest to him wet his pants. “Forget about leaving this place alive if you pull that trigger, bub.” His voice was guttural and rasping. Logan exuded savagery and masculinity. He reached for the guard’s throat and casually lifted him up off the floor. The man’s feet kicked and scrambled for purchase, and he made a gurgling squawk of surprise. His fingers dug into Logan’s forearm and his eyes bulged. Logan’s breathing was ragged, inflating his chest like a bellows. There was a struggle going on inside him, the man fighting for control over the urges of the wolf._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not afraid of you,” Graydon pronounced, and the wolves confirmed this claim, finding no traces of panic in his scent. He was still calculating, focused on his advantage and on the inert figure on the table. “Damned lycans. All of you need to be purged from the earth. I plan to clean up my community, and the rest of the country can breathe in peace once I produce this serum. You showing up here saved me the trouble of rooting you out and bringing you here myself. I need more blood.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ya ain’t gonna make any more of us go into hiding, bub! We can’t help what we are, and it ain’t up ta you ta decide if we live or die. Lycans have rules. How we share the territory. Where we hunt. How we gather. Where we live. Ya made the mistake of hurting one of my pack. Yer pop did that, once.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Steve growled and snapped at Graydon, daring him to change his target. It worked. Graydon swung his pistol right at Steve, training it on the furry ridges between his brows. Steve barked and coiled back on his hind quarters, preparing to spring._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Once was enough,” Bucky pronounced._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We didn’t want to have to have to do this again,” Ororo added calmly, but her eyes were glowing red, and her fangs glinted in plain view._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Vampires?!” Graydon laughed mirthlessly. “The hell…? You bastards don’t mingle in each other’s affairs!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Unless there’s a Blood Debt involved. And I protect my own. Let Clint go.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not until he’s drained dry.” Graydon indicated the tourniquet around Clint’s arm and the IV that was still pulsing and leaking blood onto the floor. “He’s ours until we don’t need him anymore, and you’re all next. I saw Essex’s data on vampires and the way your anti-aging factor works. Your resistance to infection and viruses. You have your uses, leech.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Ororo rolled her eyes and sighed. She flung her fist out to the right, striking off the lights in the suite. The room was thrown into complete darkness._ _ _ _ _ _

______All Graydon could see were their _eyes_._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then, he went down. His cries were ragged, mingling with his two guards’ and the intern’s as razor-sharp teeth closed around his wrist. His arm was nearly pulled from the socket, and cold terror seized him as the gun clattered to the floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bedlam. Blood._ _ _ _ _ _

______Through the haze of anesthetic, Clint almost regretted that he was missing it._ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Waking up on a stretcher kinda sucked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mr. Barton?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nnnnngh… that was my dad. Call me Clint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nice,” the paramedic murmured. “We’ve got a live one.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Definitely oriented to self.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ambulance,” Clint muttered. “New York.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oriented to place, too. Okay.” Clint felt the snug press of the blood pressure cuff around his arm and the beep of the vitals monitor. Cool, comforting oxygen filled the mask on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Turn off the sirens,” he nagged._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can’t do that. Helps us get you to the hospital faster, buddy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“M’still naked, aren’t I?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. Kinda.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ugh. This probably looks bad.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Looks fine, Clint. You’re doing fine. Your friends are going to meet you there.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Friends… wait.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“They said they might shower first, so there might be a delay. Your friend Natasha said she’ll bring your phone.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bless her,” Clint murmured. He was tired. So tired. His eyes drifted shut, and he felt the paramedic squeeze his hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You can rest for now, but we’ll have to bother you again once we get there for a full exam and assessment and to run a few scans, okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint gave them a ragged sigh. “Fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He heard her soft chuckle before he allowed himself to rest._ _ _ _ _ _

______Over the next ten minutes, the view from the gurney changed to the dark, starry sky to the high ceiling rafters of a loading dock, then fluorescent light panels. The gurney wheels rattled beneath him as they wheeled him down the corridor to the triage suite._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Got any family we need to notify?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“My pack,” he said._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No next of kin?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“My _pack_ ,” he repeated, more firmly this time._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s fine. And they’re coming.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bucky…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Who?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bucky. Tell him… m’fine. He worries.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A nice young man with dark hair was at the warehouse when we came in to get you out. He gave us his phone number as a personal contact?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint’s eyes were still closed, but his smile was soft._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ah.” The paramedic smiled and nodded._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Personal contact,” Clint agreed._ _ _ _ _ _

______As they transferred all of his leads to the monitor on the pole and moved him onto the ER gurney, Clint thought to himself, _He came for me.__ _ _ _ _ _

______The thought made his stomach do a pleased little flip and warmed him all over._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or maybe that was just the thermal blanket they threw over him…_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Clint stared around the double-occupancy hospital room with a sigh. He wasn’t looking forward to getting a roommate, but since he was just there for observation, he hoped he’d end up home by breakfast. He’d tried hospital scrambled eggs, and _no thank you_._ _ _ _ _ _

______He smelled Nat’s scent down the hall and heard her low voice asking for his room number. He caught Bucky’s scent, too, and recognized the sounds of both of their footsteps. It made his eyes spark a little, but he grunted “Come in” when they knocked lightly on the door. Nat looked freshly scrubbed and girlishly young in her simple jeans and one of Clint’s t-shirts that he forgot she stole from him. Bucky looked… healthy. His skin was flush with color, telling Clint he’d recently fed, and fed _well.__ _ _ _ _ _

______And his face looked guilty. Sad._ _ _ _ _ _

______Worried. About so many things._ _ _ _ _ _

______He hung back while Nat rushed forward and gathered him close. “You dumbass,” she hissed, and her voice was wet. Her hair curtained the side of his face and she stroked his back. Her hands touched him gently, cataloguing his injuries._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t even know what I did wrong, this time,” Clint offered by way of excuse._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shifting out too far from home, not keeping us up to speed on where you were, shifting _alone_ again, Clint, damn it, how much of a disaster are you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ouch. Little too honest there, Nat.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“See what I have to deal with, Bucky?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint noticed him in the doorway and beckoned for him to come closer. Bucky hovered just shy of the foot of the bed, until Clint waved him closer. Bucky hesitated._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bring it in, asshole. C’mon. I’m too weak down here. Nat, leggo of me for a sec.” Natasha let him go reluctantly, and Clint reached for Bucky’s hand with surprising strength and tugged him down into a rough hug that made Bucky grunt. Then, Bucky’s laugh, chagrined but pleased, filled Clint’s ears. He breathed in Bucky’s scent and leaned into his cool, solid bulk. “Why’re you so cold?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“M’always cold,” Bucky told him simply._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We gotta fix that,” Clint mused. He drew back and stared into Bucky’s eyes. No hectic red glow, just that calm, luminous blue-gray. “Pretty.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky smirked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sure did,” Nat confirmed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Natty. I love you. But get out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What?” Natasha leaned up from the bed rail indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest. “No fair! They were nice enough to let us in after visiting hours, and you just-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Out,” Clint repeated. “I need to talk to Bucky. Go. Hey, you said you’d bring my phone.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And I did, asshole. So ungrateful.” But she set the phone on his overbed table and plugged its charger cable into the wall. “You’re _welcome_. I’m going down to the lobby with Logan. At least he’ll appreciate my company.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Love you, Nat,” Clint called after her as she walked out._ _ _ _ _ _

______She flipped him the bird over her shoulder without looking back, and the door clicked shut after her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So how long are they gonna kee-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky’s words halted at the feel of Clint’s fingers tangling in his hair and the rough tug that closed the distance between them. He hummed in surprise as Clint’s lips met his, warm and demanding, teasing him and nipping at him until Bucky gave into it. They kissed, sharing breath and the slow, languorous glide of heat and need. Bucky’s palm cupped Clint’s jaw, caressing his stubbled, warm flesh. He withdrew and stared down at Clint with heat in his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So. That happened…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not good with self-restraint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. Hey. No complaints, here. This isn’t one of those moments where I was gonna tell you no, Clint.” Bucky licked the taste of Clint from his lips. “Trust me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You came for me. Didn’t you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. I had to. There was no way I couldn’t, when Stevie told me that he sensed something was wrong. They lost contact with you. That scared me, Clint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, well. This time, I get it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know I tend to get a little clingy? It’s a bad habit, and I promise that if you give me a chance to do this over, I’ll give you your space, and I won’t come on so strong-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shut the hell up with that shit.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Clint-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Come here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint pulled him down again, and the momentum brought Bucky over the side of the bed rail, hands catching him on either side of Clint’s hips. The hospital bed mattress creaked a little as he leaned into their kiss. Clint’s heart rate accelerated, and the monitor beeped at him in warning. Bucky ignored it for several long, lush seconds. He withdrew again. “Think you need to calm down a little.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You taste nice.” Clint’s voice was dreamy as he settled back into the pillows, with a funny, drunk expression on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______“They must be giving you some good painkillers.” Bucky retucked his blankets and took Clint’s hand. He laced their fingers together, stroking Clint’s scabby knuckles with his thumb._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good enough. Hey, that guy. Creed. What happened?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s off the re-election ballot,” Bucky told him. “And he’s B-negative. Probably eats a little too much red meat. I tasted a lot of fat in his artery.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shit…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. No, no, Bucko, it’s okay. Okay? I’m not judging you. M’not. Promise.” Clint squeezed Bucky’s hand. “Not if you did what you had to do.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“He’s still alive. Mostly.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That room they held you in. Seeing you laid out on the table. It took me back to a bad place.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint nodded, squeezing his hand again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Steve and Sam went home. They needed to decompress and to let the serum wear off.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Serum?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Logan called it ‘wolf juice.’”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, fuck. The same stuff Stevie took that night at the lab?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint looked stricken. Bucky nodded._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. Same stuff. He said it’s painful, coming down from the rush. Sam’s with him. They both need to cool down.” Bucky paused. “Things got a little messy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m glad he’s not alone. Steve’s not good when he’s alone. He needs people, y’know?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And you don’t?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Just got used to being alone. Even with a pack. It’s complicated.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky huffed, then reached out to stroke Clint’s rumpled hair. His eyes were understanding and soft. “Vampires are different. There’s an assumption of loneliness. You worry about loving anybody because you don’t want to hurt them. It’s like you die twice. The memory of who you used to be doesn’t just hurt them, it hurts you. You live in the shadows. Everyone you loved smells like food. And even when you get around that… they just don’t get it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bet they don’t,” Clint agreed. “My folks died in a car accident. My brother and I survived it and ended up in foster care. We should’ve been able to trust the couple who took us in first. The dad turned us. He didn’t mean it, but he was a mean sonofabitch. I stopped trusting adults after that. And I stopped believing in family after my brother ran off. I hear from him once in a while, but he’s a maverick. I can’t feel a connection to him anymore through the pack mind.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Bet that gets lonely.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not much different for you, though, huh? You outlived your family by now, right?” Clint remembered Nat’s words. Sadness flitted over Bucky’s features._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Decades ago. _Scores_ ago. I miss my sisters. It was a different time, back then. If my family ever let their neighbors know that I’d been turned, they would have been run off, or killed themselves, because I was ‘cursed.’ And ‘unclean’. Things are different, now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky played with Clint’s fingers. “A coven is different. Not really a family so much as a social network. We have rules to keep us safe and maintain the status quo. Boundaries. It’s rare that you meet vampires that tandem feed, though. Sometimes, it doesn’t end well. You get so swept up in it… I rarely hunt. I rely on the community bank’s supply, and I don’t wait until I’m desperate to feed.” Bucky looked guilty again. “That doesn’t mean blood isn’t better when it’s fresh from the _source_ , but fresh blood means _violence_. And loss, if you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s why it’s important to stay close to your sire. At least for a while.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We call that shepherding in the pack.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Steve told me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. He would have. Hey.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint gently traced a plump vein on the inside of Bucky’s wrist. “I’m not judging you, okay, Bucky?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You get grossed out when I eat.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s still gross. Don’t get me wrong. But… that’s how you live. You need it. I promise not to be super picky about it. Well, less picky.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re making me a promise?” The corner of Bucky’s mouth tugged up, and his eyes crinkled._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, yeah. I mean, if we hang out again, you’re gonna need to eat at some point, and I eat all the time, Nat calls me a human garbage disposal for a reason, and I figure-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you asking me out?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Eventually. I mean, when I get home from the hospital, we’re gonna pick up where we left off, but at some point, a date might hafta happen, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It. Might.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’ve already seen me naked,” Clint added, just to drive home the point. “I’ll show you mine, if-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re a goddamned disaster.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky kissed him again. Sharp puffs of breath and laughter mingled with the contact, and this time, Clint didn’t mind Bucky crowding him._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______Sam and Steve stayed in the shower for close to an hour. They bickered for a minute about who would use it first - “Sammy, just get in, I’ll see what I have to eat,” “Fuck that, Steven, it’s your shower, you need to warm up” - before they both climbed inside and staggered into the spray. Wordlessly, Sam pulled Steve into his arms and just held him, absorbing his essence and breathing him in. Rivulets of tinny-smelling blood ran down the drain, swirling around their feet. The enhancement serum was still making their hearts pound and skip, and Sam felt off, still. Too wild. Hemmed in by the walls of the apartment. But they needed to return to baseline and own their humanity now, and put the wolf back inside its den. Several long minutes went by, where Steve just felt Sam’s pulse still throbbing in his throat and heard his heartbeat. His skin was so smooth and warm as he stroked his back and _clung_ so tight, oh, so tight. _ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t let go,” Sam pleaded, voice choked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I won’t. I’ve got you, Sam.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thank God. God, Steve, you’re all right. I can’t do this again. It’s too much.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’re all right, Sam. Clint’s fine. We’re fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can’t lose you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You didn’t. You _won’t_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam’s chest shook, and Steve’s arms tightened around him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I _can’t_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sammy-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can’t. I can’t.” What sounded suspiciously like a sniffle escaped Sam, and Steve looked up into his eyes, now red-rimmed and shining. Steve craned his head up and cupped Sam’s cheek softly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Damn it, Sammy. Don’t. Please don’t. Okay?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay.” Sam nodded and leaned down, pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead before pulling him close again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“God, you jerk. I love you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That earned him a shuddery laugh. “I love you, too, you little bastard.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______They lolled under the spray, grooming bits of grass and leaves out of each other’s hair, gently washing cuts and scrapes, lathering each other’s skin with body wash. They swayed together, listening to each other breathe. Steve’s lips landed wherever they could easily reach, the crest of Sam’s shoulder, his pulse, the cords of muscle in his elegant throat, the underside of his chin, until Sam finally ducked down and kissed him softly, with everything he had. Steve’s breath caught, and his heart hammered in his chest with need. Sam was really _kissing_ him, and it wasn’t one of his fondest daydreams anymore. Steve’s fingers curled around Sam’s nape, holding him still to take more from that perfect mouth, opening for him and letting his tongue caress him in slow, lazy spirals. Steve groaned for him when Sam’s hand slid down his back and cupped Steve’s ass, giving it a firm, greedy squeeze._ _ _ _ _ _

______Going back to Steve’s apartment together was part of their grounding ritual, anyway, after an intense night or a hard shift. Sam and Steve were always best friends before Steve went maverick, but on a deeper level, and perhaps half the reason why Steve and Bucky failed as a couple, was because Sam and Steve’s connection was still deep. Still all-consuming. When Steve rejoined the pack, Sam put him back on like a comfortable bathrobe. The enhancement serum didn’t just stir up their hormones; it merely stoked the spark that always lived between them anyway into a roaring blaze. Like _fucking gasoline.__ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam reached back and slapped off the water dial, leaned down and grasped Steve’s hips, wrapping his long, slender legs around him before lifting him out of the tub. Steve’s laughter filled his ears, deep and fond. Sam let Steve grab a towel off the rack before he walked them into Steve’s bedroom, dripping the whole way._ _ _ _ _ _

______After a hasty attempt at drying off, they tumbled down onto the sheets in a sprawl of limbs. Sam explored Steve’s body slowly. Reverently. His lips, soft as plums, grazed and caressed him everywhere. Steve’s breathing grew uneven as Sam nibbled a wicked path down his throat, lingering over his graceful collarbones. His tannish-pink nipples peaked, pleading for attention, and Sam delivered, nipping and sucking on them and pulling shuddering sounds from his love. Sam lapped and kissed a trail down Steve’s ribcage and his flat belly, glancing up at him wickedly as the tip of his tongue darted into his navel._ _ _ _ _ _

______“That tickles, asshole!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You like it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mmmmmmm…” Steve’s hand caressed Sam’s nape, exerting just the slightest pressure, a silent demand to get on with it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Be nice, Steven.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, I’ll be _nice_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam made him wait, teasing him until he was a begging, panting wreck, before he finally engulfed Steve in the lush heat of his mouth. Slowly, they synched, linked through their lycan bond, stronger than it ever was._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mated. They were _mated_._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam felt Steve’s pleasure as strongly as his own. Every scrap of emotion, every thought, every sensation. He grew drunk with it. Steve came down Sam’s throat, crying and gasping his name. Music to Sam’s ears._ _ _ _ _ _

______*_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______“When are you going to upgrade your cable package?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why the fuck would I? It’s expensive,” Clint argued as he poured Bucky a glass of plasma-infused “seasonal” red wine that he ordered from a subscription service. Clint handed it to him while he piled his own plate high with the all-meat pizza Bucky brought over and grabbed a beer from the fridge._ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s nothing good on.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s one in the morning. What’d you expect? Besides, it’s not like you _really_ came over to watch TV,” Clint accused._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky made an exasperated sound and took the glass, taking a hearty gulp. “Mmmph…!” he exclaimed, swallowing it down quickly as he remembered what he meant to tell him. “Ororo wants to have us over for Scrabble.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why? So she and T’Challa can beat the pants off of us again?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s fun!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Pfffffttt… sure it is, pal.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Aw. C’mon, Barton. She likes you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint tsked. Then, “I mean. She _is_ nice.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She has other games. Scattergories. Monopoly. Trivial Pursuit. Actually, she has five different editions.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, thanks! The two of you have probably lived through everything that’s happened, you’ll both know all the answers. Ororo probably _wrote_ half the cards.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’ll be flattered that you said that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, yeah. _No._ ”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Spoilsport.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______They hung out on the couch, comfortably bumped shoulder to shoulder, socked feet competing for space on the coffee table as they enjoyed their treats and flipped channels with Clint’s sticky Comcast remote. Clint tried to get Bucky to eat a piece of pepperoni._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Only if you wanna see me run full-sprint to the bathroom to puke it back up. Not a good look. Get that out of my face.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s what happens if you eat?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Among other things.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ew. Right. All the more for me.” Clint popped it into his mouth._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wanna sip of my wine?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hell, no!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky snickered into his glass. He was nice enough to do the dishes once they finished, even though Clint had a standing rule that he didn’t really have to, since he never really _dirtied_ any._ _ _ _ _ _

______He neatened up the messy kitchen, making a face at the recycling piling up beside the trash. “How do you live like this?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hey, we can always go back to your apartment. Where it’s pitch black.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You know I don’t open the blinds in my neighborhood, I don’t want everyone seeing in.” Bucky had talked Clint into some room darkening blinds in his bedroom, which… actually worked out well for him when Clint had to sleep for work during the day._ _ _ _ _ _

______“If you don’t like the kitchen, I actually washed the bed sheets today. You might be rubbing off on my, Mr. Neatnik.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Rubbing off on you, huh?” Bucky set the last dripping dish into the rack at the feel of Clint closing in on him, fingers skimming over his hips. Clint himself against Bucky’s ass and leaned down to nip at his ear. “Maybe I wanna rub _up_ on you, instead.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That works, too. I’ve been a good boy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky made a hungry noise in his throat and reached up to grip Clint’s nape, craned his face up to meet his, and accepted his hard, searching kiss._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I like rewarding good boys,” Bucky breathed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Then, c’mon, baby. Show me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mmmmmmm…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky’s skin was cool to the touch, at first. But their clothes hit the floor a piece at a time, leaving a cluttered trail across the living room, down the hallway, and Clint waited until they reached the side of his bed before he knelt down and dragged Bucky’s briefs off with his teeth._ _ _ _ _ _

______He didn’t waste time with tender foreplay, not when Bucky was a feast to his senses and smelled so good, lust and musk mingling with his own usual, faintly metallic scent. Clint nosed at Bucky’s groin, teasing the line of his cock with his lips. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Be my guest.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. You be _my_ guest. I invited you over.” Clint’s eyes clouded with need as he nosed at the nest of dark curls, dragging his lips over Bucky’s tender inner thigh and lapping at the artery when he found it. Bucky sucked in a breath and gripped Clint’s shoulder for balance._ _ _ _ _ _

______“This is how you entertain company, Barton?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well. I invited you _inside_. Because I was feeling _brave_ , apparently. I know what _usually_ happens when you invite a-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t go any further with that, pal.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint chuckled, reaching up to give Bucky’s ass cheek a furtive caress before kissing the head of his cock. “Better? Is this better?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good boy,” Bucky told him. His eyes were dilated and heavy lidded when he stared down at Clint as he teased him, flicking the tip of his tongue around the crown, and lifting the shaft to trace the tender vein underneath. “ _Good_ boy, Clint.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’ve got my number, sweetheart, that’s just what I like to hear,” Clint growled. He breathed Bucky in, and slowly, Bucky’s skin warmed beneath his hands. Bucky, fresh off of his feeding, succumbed to lust and need and felt his hips pitch forward, trying to push his cock further inside the source of slick heat, but Clint hummed a rebuke._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mn-nnnhhh,” he warned as he lapped at him. “What’s the rush? Hm? You in a hurry?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Uh-uh. Not if you aren’t, handsome.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Praise. He had Clint’s number, all right._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint sucked him down, all the way to the root, then hummed around his flesh._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Shit…!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky was hard as a rock, straining to find a new home in the back of his throat. The mere _sight_ of Clint, naked and kneeling before him, was already doing things to his resolve. Everything about Clint was rumpled and inviting, from his tousled hair to his patchy allover tan from waking up naked and out in the open following his shifts. His skin was decorated here and there with freckles and the occasional scar. Bucky had kissed every one of them the first time they made love. Clint always teased him, “Don’t get too familiar there, pal” when Bucky kissed his neck._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not curious?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Not a question I need answered. I mean, if you were _starving_ , maybe. It’s just not my kink.” Then, Clint allowed, “Not _yet_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That was fair._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint pulled back, then engulfed him again, in another long, quick slide. He refused to find a regular rhythm, because it was too much fun to make Bucky squirm. Short, swirling laps. Plunging strokes. More teasing glides along the underside of his dick. A lazy tour of Bucky’s sac while Clint pumped his shaft in his warm grip. Clint heard the scrape of the nightstand drawer and Bucky rummaging around for supplies. The bottle of lube came out first, followed by one of the last Trojans in the box._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Take your time. I’m gonna come all over us both, Barton, I promise you. You’re such a good boy. You feel so good.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint’s fingers skimmed up along Bucky’s ribs, then tweaked one of his nipples. Bucky pulled his hand up to his mouth and suckled Clint’s fingers, a silent promise, before he coated the two important ones in Astroglide. Clint’s chuckle around Bucky’s flesh was guttural and dark; he was _definitely_ enjoying himself down there. Bucky set down the lube, and he felt Clint explore his sensitive crease. Clint probed that snug ring of muscle and let his digit slip inside up the first knuckle, giving Bucky a few moments to adjust. His low hums deepened even more, thrumming through Bucky as he gave his hand a little twist._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then, he pulled off of Bucky and let his hand work him open, watching his face. He needed to see the effect he was having on him. Each thrust pushed him a little closer to the edge. Clint eased a second finger inside after a while, once he felt him yielding to it. Bucky’s scent changed. He was fully engaged in what Clint was doing, and he _trusted him_. That gave Clint a rush._ _ _ _ _ _

______Clint finally stood, needing to get off his knees and unable to resist kissing his boyfriend when his face was… _fuck_. Clint couldn’t resist Bucky if he tried. More heated kisses made them tip back onto the bed, and Bucky’s legs automatically wrapped themselves around Clint’s hips. He palmed the condom and tore open the wrapper with his teeth. Bucky reached between them and pumped Clint’s length, giving him some much needed friction and attention. Clint rutted against him, greedily lapping at Bucky’s throat._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Getting awfully familiar there,” Bucky teased._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can’t help it. You’re delicious._ ”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky snickered. “You’re ridiculous.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You knew that.” Bucky heard the shrug in his tone. Bucky gripped Clint’s cock and ringed it against his own, benefiting from the slow slide and dip of Clint’s hips. Bucky’s skin was hot, now, and rosy and glowing. _I did that._ Clint felt smug and proud. Bucky’s lips were puffy and rosy, too, from his kisses, and of course, he had particular feelings about _that_. He felt the brief snap of the condom before Bucky rolled it down his length, and Bucky pulled him down for more kisses, fingers tangling in Clint’s short blond spikes._ _ _ _ _

_____Clint pushed himself inside and rode Bucky until his forearms and shoulders burned, watching Bucky tip his head back into the pillows, messing up those long, dark locks. Clint _loved_ messing him up like this and leaving behind little hickeys on that pale, pristine throat with its gorgeous cords of muscle and delicate veins. Clint rolled them over and Bucky took over, planting his palms on Clint’s chest and thrusting down on him hard._ _ _ _ _

_____“Good boy,” Bucky pronounced through gritted teeth. “Good. Boy. _Clint._ ”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Jesus…” Clint bucked up into him, meeting his thrusts in earnest. He felt slick, snug and perfect, gripping Clint like a glove. _Gorgeous_. Watching those muscles ripple was doing things to Clint, part of the sensual experience of enjoying him. Those little grunts and gasps. His _scent_. He needed… he needed to-_ _ _ _ _

_____“Not like this.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“What?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I’m sorry. I can’t finish like this.” Clint’s hands stilled Bucky’s hips. “I can, but… please.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“What’ll make it good for you?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky wasn’t hurt. He really just wanted to know._ _ _ _ _

_____Clint sat up and kissed him. Slowly. He savored it, feeling Bucky’s arms coil around him while he straddled him. “Sorry,” Clint murmured. “It feels good. It feels so fucking good. I just need to turn you around.” And his eyes flickered cool silver in the darkness._ _ _ _ _

_____“I’m open to that.” With that, Bucky gracefully slid off of him and rolled to his back. Clint grinned down at him and shook his head. He rolled up off the bed and grabbed Bucky’s ankles. Bucky yelped, snickering as Clint pulled him until his ass was at the edge of the bed, then flipped him onto his stomach._ _ _ _ _

_____“That’s a nice view.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You’re going this for the _view?_ ”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Not just the view.” Clint leaned down and lapped a wandering path down Bucky’s spine, and Bucky shivered. “I still wanna get my mouth on you. The view is nice, though.” Clint hoisted Bucky’s hips up and dragged him up to all fours. “So’s the angle.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Clint-”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky felt Clint’s knee land between his, right before he entered him in one smooth shunt that punched the breath from his lungs._ _ _ _ _

_____There it was. Now he felt perfect. Tight. Yielding. Clint topped most of the time when Bucky spent the night, and Bucky definitely enjoyed letting him, a dynamic that was different than what he enjoyed with Steve. It was almost a crime not watching Bucky’s face- no, wait. Clint had a mirror on the bureau. “Sorry, I’ve gotta turn you that way.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“What… oh.” The shifting around was awkward while they were still engaged, but Bucky saw Clint looming over him from behind. Saw his hunger and the lust he had for him gleaming in his eyes, shifting silver again with need. Bucky saw his own face all flushed and needy and didn’t recognize himself. He rutted back against Clint in response. And again. And again._ _ _ _ _

_____Clint drove into him, slowly returning to their earlier pace. He needed to possess him. Mark him. Clint found Bucky’s prostate with his thrusts, rushing him toward completion. He was so hard, leaking slick droplets onto the bed sheets that Clint bragged about laundering, and he felt his climax working its way down his spine. Bucky reached down to touch himself, anything to speed things along, but Clint snagged his hand._ _ _ _ _

_____“Uh-uh. Use that to hold onto me instead. That’s mine. Yeah, it is, that sweet cock of yours is all mine, Buck.” Bucky looped his arm up and back around Clint’s neck while Clint continued to thrust, and he ringed Bucky in his fist, pumping him in time. “Look at how pretty you are, Bucky. Hm? I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy. Huh? I’ll be your good boy.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Clint…!”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky erupted in Clint’s grip as Clint pounded into him, squeezing around Clint’s thickness, and Clint followed him minutes later, even though Bucky was spent, but he held onto him until he felt Clint spill his seed, body jerking sharply with his final thrusts. Bucky felt a spike of pain through his pleasure when Clint closed his teeth around his throat, so caught up in their rapture. Bucky’s body responded with another ripple of pleasure, making him leak another damp spurt over Clint’s knuckles._ _ _ _ _

_____“Clint…? What the hell?!”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Sorry. M’sorry. M’so sorry, baby. You felt too good.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Clint lapped at the side of his throat in apology and let himself slip free. He gathered Bucky in his arms, and Bucky returned his soft, wandering kisses. “Did I hurt you?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You just surprised me. Just wasn’t expecting that.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Neither was I. Just _happened._.” Clint softly kissed Bucky’s shoulder and eased away. “Let me throw this out, okay? And I need to pull the blinds out front.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Hurry back.”_ _ _ _ _

_____It warmed Clint a little every time he told him that._ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky returned the lube to the drawer and pitched the Trojan wrapper into the wastebasket while Clint flushed the condom. He listened to him moving around in this apartment and pondered what had just happened. Bucky pulled down the covers and climbed in, sitting up against the headboard. Clint seemed like he was avoiding his gaze._ _ _ _ _

_____“You okay?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Uh-huh. You?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You didn’t break the skin. Not much, anyway.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I’m _so_ sorry. I swear. I didn’t mean that.” Clint slid into bed beside Bucky and reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. Bucky stared down at them and smiled._ _ _ _ _

_____“You sure?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“No, Bucky, I’d never hurt y-”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Not to hurt. I mean. I’m no expert on werewolf habits. But… was that a _claiming bite_?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“A what, now?” Clint’s brows drew together and his mouth dropped open in a way that Bucky found kinda clueless. And adorable._ _ _ _ _

_____“A claiming bite. That’s a thing you do, right?” Bucky’s eyes gleamed with mischief._ _ _ _ _

_____“Well… I mean. Wolves, maybe. Like, honest-to-God _wolves_ might nip at each other a little when they fool around, but-”_ _ _ _ _

_____“But don’t lycans?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Bucky! That’s ridiculous, it…” Clint paused. “I mean. It’s… wow.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Is it really that ridiculous?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You’re not a lycan, though, Buck, I don’t think it works that way with… well.” Clint paused. “Well, shit.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Think you were feeling some strong emotions back there, pal.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Well, yeah. I mean, I do, anyway, when I’m with you.” Clint tipped his head sideways and gave Bucky a sheepish smirk. “That’s your fault, y’know. I don’t usually do ‘feelings.’” He used his free hand to put air quotes around the word._ _ _ _ _

_____“It was kinda a turn-on,” Bucky admitted. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Barton.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Quit messing around!” Clint scolded, but Bucky reached for him, curling his fingers around Clint’s nape and drawing him down for a tender kiss._ _ _ _ _

_____“If you want me around, just tell me. If you want me to _stay_ , I’ve literally got all the time in the world.” _ _ _ _ _

_____“Lycans have a few years on baselines. Maybe an extra decade or three,” Clint mused. “Maybe that could make it worth your time to brush up on lycan rituals and customs.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Bucky could tell by his smile that he was bullshitting, and by the way that he was pulling him against him that he was getting ready for round two. “This from the guy that really thought I was afraid of crucifixes and garlic.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“What? Garlic is totally a vampire thing!”_ _ _ _ _

_____“It sure ain’t, pal. I just won’t _kiss_ you after you’ve eaten that shit.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Well, then. Feel free to educate me on that subject.”_ _ _ _ _


End file.
